Pain, Abuse, Revenge
by firestorm26c
Summary: When Sherlock and John come home from a case. Sherlock discovers a girl who he doesn't recognize, unconscious in his living room. Who is she? What does she want? As Sherlock and John's studies delve deeper into the case, they discover they have made a terrible mistake which will have dire consequences- Resulting in blood, agony and anguish.
1. The Deduction

"Dirty little child. How dare you speak to your, Mother in that tone of voice! My god, if my Mother heard me speak to her in that manner, I would of been beat with a wooden spoon. You're nothing but a waste of my time and energy. My god girl, do you really think you are a wanted child? Your father and I had a one night stand and he does not even know you exist. I never told him about you, you're an embarrassment."

I look up into my Mothers eyes and held her gaze within mine. Her stare told me a thousand words and I knew what I had to do. I slowly walk backwards, still keeping eye contact.

"So, I'm not a wanted child am I? Maybe you could say I am a disgrace." I say trying to distract her.

She grunted back at me. Her stroll towards me was filled with such pride as she tried to distinguish what I was up to. We were both playing the same mind games. We both had plans against each other, but who would be the fastest is another equation. She grasps her hand around my neck and pins me up against her writing desk.

"If you know what's good for you, you little bitch. You will get out of my sight right this instant."

I smirk at her and try catch some of my breath back.

"You have me pinned to a table. How do you expect me to go anywhere?" I sarcastically reply.

"Oh, so you think you're funny? Just like your Father. Always makes a joke in the most serious of situations."

I tense up as she grips her hands harder around my neck. My oxygen was getting cut off and I was struggling to breathe let alone talk. I stretch my arm out, reaching for anything I could use as a weapon. I felt around her desk, scattering her paperwork everywhere just trying to find anything. I had to defend myself and if this was the only way. So be it.

As I scrambled around the desk my hand grabbed onto something, I didn't have time to start deciphering what it was but with all the force I could manage I pummeled the side of her face with the object. The force of the hits compelled her to let go. She stood there in shock. The look she had on her face; it was like the sun just got shrouded by darkness, and that's all that was left; Darkness. Nothing more, nothing less. She was just emotionless.

I was still partly lying down on her desk, with my legs hanging over and my feet almost touching the ground. I stare at her. I was shaken up by what I had just done but I was even more terrified about what I had created. I gulped and glanced over to the weapon I used on her, which was still in my hand. It was a silver hand-gun.

She slowly turned her head and tilted it. Before she could do anything I held the gun up in front of myself as defense, she stood there staring at me, acting oblivious to the gun in my hands. She wondered up to me, doodling around the room, laughing manically at herself. I gulped one more time, never loosing grip of my weapon and never loosing eye contact. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a painting on the wall which was not aligned with the wallpaper. It had to be. Everything had to be perfect in her eyes; Including me.

As her back was turned I took aim, my intentions was to wound her, not kill. But I was too slow. She turned around and strolled up to me, snatched the gun out of my hand and threw it across the room so it was completely useless to me. I scampered on top of the desk, breathing quickly, nearly at the point of hyperventilation. I cower and put my hands in front of my face out of fear, blocking her out of my vision. Any second now I was expecting to feel the throbbing pain of getting hit repeatedly over and over again as punishment for what I done to her.

"Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry." I plead. My voice was shaky. I was terrified.

She crawls onto the desk and pins me down by sitting on top of me. Her grip on my arms were so tight, it was hurting. She steadily pulls me up so I am sitting upright and meeting her eyes once again. Slowly she begins moving me back and forth until she eventually got faster. As time went on she started shaking me more vigorously, so fast I couldn't think. I was so tense and petrified with fear I couldn't comprehend anything. It felt like time slowed down for this period and I could only feel the torment she bestowed upon me.

I screamed in horror hoping it would distract her slightly. Hoping she had enough frame of mind left to hopefully stop.  
To my surprise her grip loosened and she took one step backwards. I was free from her torment for now, but what else did she have planned in that demonic brain of hers? What does she think about? How long has she been waiting for this day?

I look down on the desk and see the entire collection of my, Mother's writing. All of the beautiful calligraphy on her notes. How can such a monster write so gracefully? It was so deceiving. As I was examining the paper. I noticed one that was not like the others. It wasn't a story. It was a letter. Hidden. I couldn't see a name, but there was an address: '221B, Baker St. London.' Ironically that wasn't far from where we lived approximately 45 minutes away. So why was she writing a letter? Why not just go and visit? I pondered these questions in mind until I saw one word in the letter. 'Father.' My eyes widened and I silently mouthed the word to myself, making sure I didn't let out a noise. I started to adjust my head to face her, but before I could even get her in my sight, a force so strong, knocked me out clean. I was in darkness. Everything was so empty. It felt so eerie, but yet, it felt so calm. The silence was so nice. It was like I was in a long, deep sleep. Nothing could ever interrupt me and I didn't want it too.

* * *

"Hurry! We're losing him, John!" Exclaimed, Sherlock as he ran away into the dark alley-way letting the moon guide his way.

"S-Sherlock. Wait. I am exhausted." John pants, trying to catch his breath.

"What? What do you mean exhausted? Blimey! You're a Doctor for heaven's sake, John. You of all people should be the fit one around here."

John continued to pant, with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked behind him, noticing the man they were chasing is long gone now. He ran off into the shadows and darkness soon swallowed him.

"Dammit, John! We lost him. We need to go back to the apartment and gather more evidence and tomorrow, we will know exactly where he is and strike!"

John stood up straight and shook his head; Sherlock looked confused.

"What's wrong? Did I say something wrong? I didn't think I did."

"Sherlock. It's late. We need sleep. Not me. _Us_. Just stop, for one night. Stop putting evidence together, stop targeting people. Just...stop."

"Oh, John! Don't be ridiculous. All the noise and havoc during the day, it's just dreadful. I feel like murdering all of, London."

John snickered at his remark. Typical.

* * *

As Sherlock opened the door to the apartment, he took off his coat and dumped it in John's arms.

"You know, Sherlock, the hanger was right next to you, it was practically touching your shoulder...A-and you're not even listening to me" John muttered with a sigh.

While, John hung up, Sherlock's coat, he heard his footsteps come to a sudden halt. John got a bad feeling, but soon dismissed it. Sherlock slowly began to speak;

"John. I'm going to need my phone now."

"Is everything okay? What's wrong?" John asked concerned.

"The phone, John. Now."

John ravaged through Sherlock's coat, feeling for the phone, but he couldn't find it anywhere inside.

"Hurry!" Sherlock exclaimed.

Sherlock strutted angrily up to, John. When he walked in, John was still going through Sherlock's coat.

"John. What on earth is taking you so long!?"

"Your phone isn't here."

Sherlock walked over confused, snatched the coat from John and he began shaking it viciously. When he saw nothing fell out, he simply just threw the coat to the ground behind him. He paced back and forth for a few seconds before he suddenly grabbed hold of John's shoulders. He stared into his eyes.

"John."

"Yes? What is it?" John replied worried.

"Phone. Now!" Sherlock ordered.

John dug into his jacket, pulled his phone out. He didn't even get a chance to hand it to him before Sherlock snatched it out of his hand and started dialling a number.

"Um. Sherlock. Who are you calling?"

"Police." Sherlock replied bluntly.

Before John had the chance to ask why, Sherlock started speaking;

"Hello, my name is John Watson. My address is 221B Baker Street. There is a missing girl in my lounge room. Come immediately." Sherlock hung the phone up and threw it back to John.

"What! Why did you have to use MY name!?"

Sherlock ignored him.

"I'm going out. I will be back later on."

"No. You're not going anywhere. You can't just ring up the Police and tell them there is a missing girl in our living room and use MY name. What do you expect me to tell them?"

"Say the girl has some type of medical condition. Lie too them. I don't care what you tell them. They will trust you, you're a Doctor. In case you haven't noticed John, the Police are not very fond of me. I couldn't use my name. What do you think they're going to do if they got a call from Sherlock Holmes reporting a missing girl? It would be like Christmas coming early."

"So you want me to lie? If they find out I am holding critical evidence against them. Do you know how much trouble I would get in, Sherlock?" John argued.

After a moment in silence, Sherlock started chuckling to himself.

"It's funny. You are so worried about me using your name. You're not even one bit concerned why there is a girl laying un-conscious in our living room. Like I said, I will be back later." Sherlock stated before slamming the door in, John's face.

John sighed and walked into the living room and that was when he saw me. I looked so peaceful. John bent down beside me, he started examining my body. According to him, everything was fine. This was good news for me, but not for him. The lump on my head got more swollen as time went on. The more swollen it got, the worse it looked.

"This is not going to be good." John muttered to himself.

While John was knelt down beside me he heard three loud knocks on the door and a gruff voice calling after him;

"Mr. John Watson. Come outside immediately with the girl, disarmed."

John looked over his shoulder and gulped. He knew it was the Police. He figured the safest thing to do at this point in time was not to argue and not to speak unless spoken too. He noticed his military side was showing, the way he was thinking brought back memories of the war. This was the side of him he hated, the side he despises so much. This was the side that ruined his life.

Three more loud knocks interrupted, John's thinking.

"Mr. Watson. Now!" One of the officers shouted from outside.

John scooped me up in his arms. He walked to the door trying not to make any sudden movements; he opened the door as slowly as he could, while still holding me. As he came face to face with the Police, they stood in front of him. Two males and one female.

"Put the girl down now!" The female officer commanded.

John gently lowered me to the ground, and placed me on the cement. "I can explain everything..I'm a Doctor."

"I don't bloody care who you are. Put your arms up in the air now." She ordered.

Once John obeyed, she walked up to him. She started patting his body down, making sure he was not concealing any weapons on him that could be used in defense. When she found nothing she walked back to stand with the other two officers.

John lowered his head, facing the ground and muttered underneath is breath. "Dammit Sherlock. Why did you do this to me?"

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you." The officer teased, laughing to herself.

John was loosing. Sherlock had left him. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back. John couldn't believe how much faith he had in him,how much he trusted him. What a joke. Obviously Sherlock had none in return. He should of seen it earlier.

"You know, John. When you lay someone on the ground like that, you really should support their head better." A voice stated.

John slowly started to raise his head. Once the Police officers came into his sight, he saw who was standing behind them. It was, Sherlock. He came back.

"Sorry about keeping you waiting, John. But you really did play the perfect part, exactly what I needed. You do make a perfect decoy. Brilliant acting, couldn't of done it better myself. Now, if you would excuse me, Officers. I don't have time for all of this riff raff. I have more important matters to be taking care of here. I will be taking the girl inside and dealing with this myself from now on. I appreciate your concern but it is no longer needed officers. Afternoon."

Sherlock bent down beside me and lifted me into his arms. He walked into the apartment while holding my body steadily in his grip. He used the force of his leg to kick the door shut.

Again, John was left behind. He was left to deal with everything alone. What was he going to say? They were going to have questions. Sherlock, what are you doing?

Sherlock laid me gently down onto his lounge. He saw the massive lump on my head. He could see how fresh the injury was.

"This has obviously happened very recently. The amount of force used to knock someone out. It must have been immense. The wound is getting worse, it's still swollen. The amount of pain would of been un-bearable."  
Before, Sherlock spoke of anymore of his deductions; He looked down onto my neck and noticed a bruise.

"Boyfriend? No, not a boyfriend. The bruise is different. So it's not a hickey. How about abuse? Abuse sounds more logical. The angle of the hit has impacted her neck. So, whoever done this used something large. A plank of wood perhaps? That would defiantly work. Chances are when they done this attack, they wanted her dead but when they saw she was still alive, they got scared. They didn't want the Police to catch them. Which was quite stupid of them, really. So why did they dump her? If they were scared of the Police, they wouldn't let her out of their sight. Oh, that is smart. Whoever it is, dumped her and ran. The person is running away."

Sherlock paced back and forth for a few minutes, staring at me.

"Wait a minute. How could I be so stupid? Why didn't I notice it earlier? Her clothes. She has worn the same outfit for three days. Her clothes smell of alcohol. Now, this is where it turns interesting. Her parents are obviously involved in this. Looking at her state, they didn't care for her. She was a waste of space in their eyes. So, she has come from an abusive, alcoholic family. Sounds about right. So who done this to you? Mummy or Daddy? And why did they bring you here? Was it at random? No, it wasn't at random. It never is. There is always a connection. It is always a family member."

Sherlock's eyes widened,when he just realized what he had said.

"No, that can't be right. My family is smarter then that. They would not let me come anywhere near you. They would put you into an orphanage first. Whoever dropped you off here went to a lot of trouble. They knew John and I were working a case at the time. So they took advantage of the circumstances. The time of night was perfect for a break in. The only thing against them was trying to get inside. They weren't just going to leave you on the front doorstep. That would draw too much attention, anyone could walk by. The apartment was locked. That leaves one place to break into. The window. There was no smashed glass. That tells me whoever done this was careful and if they were careful, they weren't panicking, in-fact they were doing the exact opposite, they were planning. They had every detail of this planned out, down to how long they could be in the room for."

Sherlock walked over to the window. He stuck his head outside, searching for any clues that may have been left behind accidentally. He found nothing. There were no signs of any break in. Everything was clean.  
As he was walking back towards me, he heard the door slam. It was, John. Sherlock instantly turned his back on him. He didn't want to face the questions. Not when he had more important matters to deal with. John's problems were predictable. There is nothing fun in that.

"So, thank you for leaving me out there _again_ to deal with that" John remarked.

Sherlock ignored him. He pretended not to hear him as he began to search my body for anymore bruising.

"You wouldn't believe who turned up as soon as you left. It was a miracle. Greg Lestrade. He really saved me back there. I didn't know what I was going to do. No thanks to you that is."

Sherlock continued to ignore him. He was hearing everything he was saying, but he was not in the mood for his bickering.

"Sherlock. Are you listening to me?"

"John, can you shut up?" Sherlock replied.

The room was silent as Sherlock continued to search my body for anymore bruising. He placed two fingers on my vein and timed my pulse. Sherlock could tell how tense John was. He could feel it in the atmosphere.

"So, I'm surprised you haven't asked what you were a decoy for." Sherlock spoke, trying to break the tension which filled the air.

"What was I a decoy for then?" John sighed.

Digging into his coat, Sherlock pulled out some Police records. He smirked while waving them in the air.  
They both met at the coffee table, which was conveniently placed in front of me. This folder contained all of my information. There was even a photograph of me. They had all the information they needed now. Including the names of my parents.


	2. Awakening

Sherlock opened my file and pointed out my history. Inside the file they also had a description on my personality.

"She's a girl who keeps to herself most of the time. She has a few friends, but mainly just at school, she doesn't socialize out of the school environment. I imagine she traps herself inside her bedroom most days, detaching herself from reality. It was her parents." Sherlock said bluntly.

"Excuse me?" John replied confused.

"Her parents done this to her. Now, the only thing I don't know is whether or not it was Mummy or Daddy. And I really don't like not knowing. Hence why I stole her records."

"Wait, you stole her records? What's the point of only stealing hers? How do you know it was her parents who done this and not someone else who might have been staying with them? She might even have siblings." John suggested.

"Okay, let's pretend for a moment that her Mother actually cared for her and loved her. Do you really think she would let abuse this extreme happen behind her back? The answer is no." Sherlock stated.

"Okay...but what about her, Father? How do you know he isn't involved in this?" John asked.

"Well, I don't. Whoever her Father is, it's a mystery. His name isn't listed on her records. The only time when a parent isn't listed, is when they want nothing to do with the child again, that's usually a result of a one night stand. Sometimes the Father doesn't even know they have a child. They just never see each other again, and the Mother is left to deal with everything alone."

John and Sherlock both looked at me, laying down so peacefully.

"That is so sad. I feel so sorry for her, Sherlock. To know her Father is gone and the only thing she has to a family is a Mother who abuses her. It's terrible. She must feel so broken inside." John empathized.

"It's okay, John. Chances are she started getting abused from a young age. She would think it's normal."

John looked down at my Police records, he looked sad, like he genuinely was sorry for me.

"So I am guessing you have read her information then?" John asked.

"Of course. I read it in the Police station but having the evidence on hand with us at all times might come in handy. Better safe then sorry, John. Oh, and by the way, I'm the one who called Lestrade to come pick up his Police hounds. Annoying aren't they? Get in the way of everything. Play times over."

* * *

As I slowly opened my eyes, I felt dizzy. My vision was slightly out of focus, but I knew it would soon adjust itself to the conditions. My head felt like someone was repeatedly punching it, it was throbbing with pain. As I attempted to sit up, I let out a groan. I felt light-headed and I felt as though I had no energy, sitting up felt like a chore.

Sherlock and John heard the groan from behind them. They both instantly turned their heads to see me sitting up, nursing my head in my hands.

"Hello, Elizabeth. My name is Sherlock Holmes, I'm a detective and this is my assistant, Doctor John Watson."

I could only manage to make out pieces of what he said to me. All I could concentrate on was the pain going through my head. It was un-bearable. John walked over to me, he knelt down beside the lounge I was on.

"Hello, Elizabeth. I'm going to help you. I'm a Doctor. You got hit extremely hard on the head, you are more than likely suffering from concussion and of course the wound itself is still hurting. I am going to get you some pain-killers. You should lie back down and get some rest." John kindly said while putting a blanket over my body to keep me warm.

Sherlock ushered John over to the other-side of the room.

"John, what do you think you're doing? We need to ask her questions. Not have a sleepover. Why don't we braid each others hair while we're at it? Maybe you could get dressed up as a Ballerina?" Sherlock angrily whispered, so I wouldn't hear.

"Sherlock. This girl has been through hell. She needs rest. How much sleep do you think she gets at night? She would be scared out of her brains. Not knowing when her Mother is going to assault her next. She wouldn't be able to sleep! You see those black rings under her eyes!? She is sleep deprived for crying out loud! She needs rest! If you are going to ask her questions, would you prefer an accurate response or a response you can't rely on?" John replied furious.

"John, this girl shouldn't even be _our_ problem. Okay, she has had a hard life. Lot's of people have hard lives!"

"But curiosity got the better of you didn't it? You could of let the Police take her away, but you didn't. You wanted to know why she was here. Sherlock Holmes would never pass up an opportunity this good." John stated.

A smirk took-over, Sherlock's face. John knows him well, maybe too well.

* * *

Sherlock's phone started buzzing, it was a text message from, Lestrade.

_"Meet me at the Station immediately. It's important. I have news."_

"I need to go. Text me when she wakes up." Sherlock said running out the door.

As, Sherlock ran out the door, he hailed a Cab. He had to get to the station as fast as possible.

'_What has, Lestrade found?_' Sherlock pondered to himself.

At the Station, Sherlock ran up to the doors where he met, Lestrade who was waiting for him outside.

"Sherlock, you took your time didn't you?" Lestrade joked.

"Got here as fast as I could." Sherlock replied in a serious tone.

"Follow me. I have some news you're going to want to see."

As Sherlock and Lestrade walked through the doors of the Police station. Lestrade led Sherlock to a private interview room,where he had the evidence spread out on the table. Sherlock walked up to the desk, gazing at all the evidence. One thing caught his eye; The file of, 'Victoria Eldridge.' Sherlock picked it up and started reviewing her file. Victoria Eldridge, the Mother of Elizabeth.

"I thought you would be interested in that." Commented Lestrade.

"_Very._" Sherlock slowly replied, not taking his eyes off her file.

Sherlock looked up at, Lestrade taking everything very seriously.

"So, what did you find out? Did you question, Victoria?" Sherlock asked.

"I did. I have some shocking news. Brace yourself, Sherlock."

Sherlock walked over to, Lestrade confused.

"What have you found out? Tell me."

Lestrade takes a deep breath in. Sherlock could tell he felt anxious about even bringing up the subject.

"When I went to visit, Victoria. She said she knew you."

"Knew me? How?" Sherlock questioned.

"Apparently you two have history. Look, it's none of my business. She could be lying. But I just want you to know, before I texted you, I did my research in depth, and everything she says all concludes to the same answer." Lestrade hesitantly responded.

"Lestrade, what did she _tell you_?" Sherlock grew impatient, he was getting angry.

"Elizabeth is your daughter, Sherlock."


	3. Elizabeth

Sherlock started laughing after he took a moment to fathom the ridiculous notion, which in no way could be true.

"What is so funny?" Lestrade asked.

"That's a good one. _Elizabeth is my daughter._" Sherlock could hardly contain his laughter while mocking, Lestrade.

"I'm not joking, Sherlock. It was about thirteen years ago,am I right? You were solving a case. Victoria was the only person who had any information. At first she wouldn't talk, but there was one way to get the information out of her. It was her weakness. Ringing any bells now, Sherlock?"

Sherlock's eyes widened in shock.

_'No, it couldn't be?_' Sherlock repeatedly thought to himself.

He was trying to think of anything he could to deny it. He can't have a daughter. That's impossible.

"H-How do you know she is mine? Someone else could be the Father?" Sherlock mutters out, voice shaking.

"Sherlock. I asked, Victoria the same question. She got a DNA test done. Elizabeth is defiantly yours. At first I didn't believe her either. So I went to the Hospital, Elizabeth was born at. Surprisingly they still had her records. They done a DNA test as soon as she was born. The results come back to you, Sherlock. Now the Hospital wouldn't lie about that." Lestrade explained.

"Where are the DNA tests. I want to see them." Sherlock asked, still in shock.

Lestrade shook his head.

"Sorry, Sherlock. They wouldn't let me take a copy. You're just going to have to take my word on it."

"They wouldn't let you take a copy? But you're the Police!" Sherlock stated.

"I know, ridiculous isn't it? But, apparently the results can't leave the Hospital under any circumstance." Lestrade shrugged.

Sherlock stormed out of the interview room slamming the door behind him. He had to enter his mind palace. He had to _think._ Once outside, Sherlock hailed a Cab. He had to get back to the apartment as quick as possible. There were some things he had to take care of.

* * *

Once, Sherlock arrived, he stormed into the apartment slamming the door. The noise of the door startled, John and also woke up, Elizabeth.

"Good, you're awake. About time." Sherlock rudely commented.

"Sherlock! What's wrong? What do you think you're doing!?" John yelled.

Sherlock ignored, John's remark. He energetically walked up to me, stepping over the coffee table. You could sense the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Sherlock tightly grabbed my arm and pulled it outwards so it laid straight. He gripped my wrist and pinned it down so tight,I couldn't move. His force was so strong. I felt like I was tied up. I struggled to try slip from his grip, but when I did, he just gripped my wrist tighter.

Sherlock reached for his coat pocket, reaching inside he took out a syringe and a test tube. Upon seeing these, I tried my utmost to try escape his grasp, but he was too strong.

"Stop moving!" Sherlock shouted.

He held the syringe in his mouth while he used both hands to hold me down. I had nearly escaped, but I wasn't fast enough.

"Sherlock. What the hell are you doing?!" John yelled again.

Sherlock ignored his remark once again. He couldn't let anyone know what he was doing. Not until he was certain. Sherlock took the syringe from his mouth and jabbed it into my arm. I looked up and looked into his eyes. It scared me what I saw. His face was so empty. The expression he held the entire time was making me un-comfortable. He looked like just for a moment, he became possessed.

The blood from my vein started flowing into the syringe. I looked away, I hated the sight of blood, it made me feel sick in the stomach. Once he was done, Sherlock released me, he transferred the blood into the test tube and once again he stormed out the door, without a word.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Sherlock scared me. I didn't know what he was doing, but I didn't like it. John ran over to me, he put his arm around my shoulder, he looked genuinely concerned for me.

"Are you okay?" John calmly asked.

I was still in shock about how fast it happened.

"Um, yeah...I think so. Thank you." I muttered.

John gently took my arm and had a look at the damage, Sherlock caused.

"Oh my god! I will be right back. I will get you a bandage. Make sure you keep pressure on it!" John said before he ran out of the room in a panic.

The blood started to run down my arm. As it was running down my forearm, I gazed at it. I suddenly became mesmerized in it. Watching the rich liquid flow out of my body and stream down my arm, it made me feel exhilarated. I didn't feel sick by it anymore, I liked it and I wanted more.

I ignored John's suggestion. I wasn't going to stop the blood rushing out now. The heavier the flow, the more engrossed I became.


	4. The Seductress

Sherlock knocked on the front door. As the door opened, Victoria answered.

"Oh? What a surprise. I knew it wouldn't take you long. Why don't you come inside for a cup of tea?" Victoria asked enticingly.

Sherlock didn't say a word, he stayed silent. Victoria smiled, turned around and waltzed inside, leaving Sherlock to catch up. Sherlock hesitantly followed her, hands held together behind his back. As their footsteps hit the white marble floor, the noise echoed throughout the mansion.

Sherlock looked around, gazing at the spiral staircase. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see, Victoria smirking at him.

"You got rich, I see." Sherlock said in a serious tone.

"Yes. It was left by my parents. All of this is mine now."

"Well, I suppose that's what you get being an only child of a wealthy family." Sherlock said while pacing around, Victoria, not taking his eyes off her.

Victoria's eyes followed, Sherlock's movements as he continued to pace.

"So, I thought you were supposed to be running? Why are you still here?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't leave without saying my goodbyes first, dear."

Victoria elegantly walked up to, Sherlock, she put her mouth to his ear and whispered softly;

"_Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes._"

As she stepped back with a grin on her face, Sherlock glared at her.

"Not seductive enough for you? Well, it certainly worked thirteen years ago. Do you know yet?" She asked drawing his attention.

"About?" Sherlock questioned.

"Elizabeth! Surely you know by now, Sherlock."

Sherlock stood his ground and continued to stay silent. If he wants this to work in his favour, he needs to act dumb.

"Enlighten me." Sherlock says, pretending to be fascinated by the ordeal.

"Well, she is yours. You already knew that though. Your friend, Greg Lestrade dropped by earlier."

"Why didn't he arrest you?" Sherlock questioned.

"Oh sweetie. I am smarter than that. I told him if he wanted any information from me, there was only one way he was going to get it out of me." Victoria chuckled.

"Sex?" He responded in a serious tone.

Victoria laughed at his remark.

"No, sweetie. Different motives for different people." Victoria replied with a wink.

Victoria confidently walked up to, Sherlock and placed her hands on his waist, bringing him in closer to her. As she stared into his eyes, she started to un-button his black blazer and take his coat off his shoulders.

Sherlock had the test tube with Elizabeth's blood still inside his coat. He knew he couldn't risk it getting broken so he swiftly held, Victoria's hand and slowly helped guide her. Once his coat was off he threw it on the lounge, he couldn't risk it getting thrown onto the floor.

Sherlock seductively stared into, Victoria's eyes. Her eyes didn't leave his sight. He grabbed her waist and pulled her in closer. As their faces moved closer together you could sense the sexual tension between the two. Their lips finally met, and they started to passionately kiss.

As Victoria bit his lip she pushed him onto the lounge with force, he landed next to his coat. She slithered onto his lap like a snake. As she sat on his lap,her legs were sprawled open and her feet placed on the ground. Victoria moved her head towards, Sherlock's neck and slowly began kissing it. Her hands slowly moved down to his torso, where she began to un-button his white t-shirt.

While Victoria was distracted, Sherlock knew what he had to do. He put a hand around her waist pulling her in closer. Sherlock knew he needed to make it look like he was interested. Sherlock knew this was an act, but not under any circumstance could he let, Victoria know this.

Victoria started kissing Sherlock's neck harder, she became more rough with every sensation he felt.

Sherlock carefully put his spare hand into his coat and pulled out a second syringe which contained a strong sleeping drug. He gradually began to raise his hand up to her face, he leaned in closer to, Victoria and whispered in her ear;

"_Sleep now_. _Miss. Victoria Eldridge_."

Sherlock gently injected the drug into her neck. She instantly felt drowsy, she slowly started to collapse in, Sherlock's arms. As she was collapsing, Sherlock gently guided her body onto the lounge.

"_Shh. Hush now._" Sherlock whispered.

Sherlock took a third syringe from his coat, he injected the needle in her neck again, drawing a sample of blood from her vein. He transferred the blood from the syringe into a new test tube and slipped the tube into the pocket of his pants, making sure it wouldn't fall out.

In the silence, he walked towards the lounge where his footsteps continued to echo throughout the atmosphere. He bent down beside, Victoria.

'_You look so much like, Elizabeth asleep_.' he thought to himself while picking up his coat and holding it in his arms.

As, Sherlock was about to stride out of the mansion, he buttoned up his shirt and glanced down at his coat. He quietly walked over to, Victoria for a final time and shrouded his coat over her torso, using it like a blanket.

Sherlock left the mansion, closing the door behind him.

* * *

At St. Bartholomew's Hospital, Sherlock walked through the doors, where he saw, Molly.

"Oh, hello, Sherlock. I was just about to head out..."

"No, you're not." Sherlock quickly replied whilst grabbing her shoulders and turning her around.

"Oh..okay." Molly timidly said.

As they both entered the Lab, Sherlock immediately took, Victoria's blood sample out of his pocket and placed it under the microscope, ready for examination.

"Um. Sherlock...I was wondering, would you like to-" Molly suddenly stopped talking. On the side of, Sherlock's lips was an imprint of red lipstick, her eyes lowered to his neck where she saw multiple bruises starting to form.

"Would I like to _what_?" Sherlock asked, rushing her for an answer.

"You, know what..never-mind. It was silly." She said shaking her head, laughing at herself.

_'How could I be so dumb?'_ She thought to herself, walking away embarrassed.

"Oh, one more thing, Sherlock..Um, you have a little something on your face." Molly gestured, pretending to wipe away the lip stick, trying not to feel like such an idiot.

Sherlock wiped at his lips, trying to get rid of the lip-stick but he only caused it to smear.

"Um.. You sort of made it worse." Molly hesitantly said, trying not to laugh.

Molly walked up to, Sherlock with a wet cloth in her hand.

"Here, let me help." She said while wiping his mouth, as if he were a child.

Sherlock stared at her. He was surprised. Molly started to blush. Whenever, Sherlock paid attention to her, she could feel her nerves taking over.

"O-Oh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Molly said nervously.

"Thank-you, Molly." Sherlock replied clenching her arm before she walked out.

Molly nodded with a smile and closed the door.

Sherlock suddenly looked petrified and looked up from his microscope. He just realized he made a huge mistake.

"Oh no." He muttered to himself.

He swiftly stood up out of his seat, ruffling his hair in frustration, he let out a frustrated moan; As he was starting to pace back and forth, his phone rang. It was a text message;

_"Forgetting something,dear? - V.E."_

Sherlock threw his phone across the room in frustration.

_'How could I be so stupid?'_ He thought to himself.

From across the room, Sherlock heard his phone ringing again. He just stared at it, as the tone repeated itself. Once the tone stopped, Sherlock walked over to the device and picked it up off the floor. It was another text message, but it wasn't from, Victoria.

_"Come and play, Sherlock. I'm waiting. 226 Glen-wood Gardens. -J.M"_

Sherlock slipped the phone into his pocket and walked out of the lab, where he met, Molly again.

"Oh, you're leaving already?" Molly asked smiling kindly.

"Yes. Something has.._.come up._" Sherlock said looking distracted.

Sherlock took Molly's hands and looked into her eyes;

"Molly, you have to promise me something. Please be careful."

"What? Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Molly asked nervously.

"No reason." Sherlock replied smiling, trying not to worry her.

* * *

As the cab stopped outside of 226 Glen-wood Gardens he cautiously walked up to the front door. Before he had the chance to knock on the door, it slowly creaked open in front of him, presenting herself was, Miss Victoria Eldridge.

"Hello, dear." Victoria smirked.

As Sherlock followed, Victoria inside she offered him a seat. As she snapped her fingers, a waiter in a black and white Tuxedo strolled out holding a plate of tea and biscuits and placed it on the glass coffee table in front of them. Victoria sat on the other-side, legs crossed, holding,Sherlock's coat.

"Please. Help yourself. We didn't get around to the tea earlier."

Sherlock looked down at the beautifully presented tea and biscuits. He decided to decline her offer, regardless of her kind hospitality. He didn't want to risk getting drugged, he didn't want to put himself into firing range.

"No? You don't want any? All that trouble gone to waste. Such a disappointment." A voice from behind him complained.

Sherlock instantly turned his head and saw a man waving at him.

"Hello there, Sherlock. Glad you could make it!" The man's voice echoed.

"Moriarty, we meet again." Sherlock proclaimed.

Sherlock turned to look at, Victoria who was sitting with her legs crossed, enjoying, Sherlock's confusion.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock snapped.

"Ohhh. You know, _this_ and _that_." Moriarty grinned.

Moriarty walked over and sat next to, Victoria. He kneeled on the lounge and whispered something in, Victoria's ear while peering at their special guest. Sherlock sat on the other-side of the coffee table, staring at them, trying to distinguish what their plans were. Moriaty grabbed, Victoria by her hips and started rapidly kissing her cheek, which she was indulging in.

Sherlock sat on the other-side, legs crossed in a formal matter trying not to pay attention to them. Sherlock got distracted by the giggling of, Victoria and looked over to witness, Moriarty licking the side of her face and sucking her neck.

"Are you enjoying the show, Sherlock?" Moriarty hissed.

Sherlock remained silent, examining the both of them. They were both so sly. The Snake and the Spider.

Victoria ushered, Moriarty off her; Telling him to stop.

"Sorry, sweetie. I will make it up to you later." She said grabbing the bottom of his chin, pulling his lips onto hers.

"Maybe, Sherlock would like to join us." Victoria giggled.

Moriarty couldn't contain his laughter. He got up grabbing, Victoria's waist from behind, kissing her neck, despite what she just said.

"Who cares if he's watching. I'm in the moood." He whined.

"I said _later._" Victoria demanded holding his hands.

She strutted over to, Sherlock's coat, digging her hand into the pocket, pulling out the vial of blood.

"So, you came here to get a blood sample from me? You don't believe that, Elizabeth is yours? Are you really that desperate to find out. Words will never be enough for you, Sherlock. You need to learn to trust people. If you don't you're going to be alone for the rest of your life."

"Alone is what I have. Alone protects me." Sherlock replied.

Victoria un-expectantly threw the vial across the coffee table, Sherlock caught it in his hands.

"Why are you giving it back to me?" Sherlock questioned.

"Why wouldn't I? What am I going to do with it?" She chuckled.

"It's a perfectly logical thing to do. You had something of mine. You could have used it in your favor." Sherlock remarked, placing the vial in his pocket.

Victoria threw, Sherlock his coat.

"Thanks."

"What for?" He questioned.

"For keeping me warm." She said with a wink.

Moriarty walked over to, Sherlock and began to whisper in his ear;

"Don't worry, Sherlock. We will meet again. And trust me, the next time we meet. Things are not going to be pretty. Blood will be shed."

Sherlock stepped back, glaring into his eyes.

"I look forward to it." He whispered back.

Moriarty grinned as he placed a piece of gum in his mouth, chewing it vigorously

"It's a date. I'll bring you some flowers, Sherlock. You're going to need them." Moriarty slowly said in his mischievous voice.

* * *

Back at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, Sherlock pushed open the door to the Lab where, Molly spends most of her time.

"Molly?" Sherlock called, but he received no response in return.

He looked around the room, something didn't feel right. He took a deep breath in and continued with his examination. He dismissed his bad-feeling, even though his gut feeling was telling him otherwise.

Sherlock walked over to a desk stocked with syringes and other medical equipment. He wasn't done yet. He needed one more blood sample. His. Sherlock, strapped his upper arm up tightly so the circulation would temporarily stop, he clenched his fist and relaxed himself until the vein started bulging with blood. At this point, he knew he had to be precise, he couldn't leave the strap on his arm for much longer. As he injected the needle in his arm, he saw the blood flowing into the syringe. Once it was full, he finally had everything he needed.

Sherlock took the blood samples over to the microscope where he still had, Victoria's in place. Now that he had acquired everything needed, he could get to work, analyzing the blood samples. Finding out the truth and hopefully put this case to rest.


	5. The Game

John walks over to me and sits down by my side.

"So, are you going to tell me why you didn't follow my instructions?" John inquired.

I sat in silence while looking at my arm. The hole was deep, but the blood which rushed out was intriguing. As I look at it, memories flash back; What I was feeling was surreal. It was my addiction. I needed more.

"Why did, Sherlock do that?" I murmured, slightly scared.

"I'm not sure." John replied.

_'Sherlock, what are you doing?'_ John thought to himself.

As, John was thinking this, he got out his phone and sent him a text;

_"Sherlock, what are you doing? We can work on this together. Whatever, Lestrade told you. I can help. - J.W" _

As, John put his phone on the table,it started vibrating. It was a text from, Sherlock;

_"John. I need your help. St. Bartholomew's Hospital." -S.H_

John put on his jacket, ready to go. Eager to be up to date with this ordeal. As, John and Elizabeth were about to walk out, John received another text message.

_"Don't bring, Elizabeth. -S.H"_

John, looked at me and back at his phone. He bent down onto his knees, as if he were talking to a child. I was fourteen.

"Look, I'm going to get Mrs. Hudson to come down to look after you. She is a lovely lady."

"Sherlock doesn't want me there...does he?" I assumed.

"I'm sure he has a valid reason for it. We wouldn't want you to get hurt." John replied, trying to make me feel better.

When, John turned around, he heard her come down the stairs.

"Ahh. Mrs. Hudson. Perfect timing. Would you mind looking after, Elizabeth for a few hours?"

"Oh, of course sweetie. Oh, we will have such fun together. Come on darling, I will bake you some cookies."

John thanked, Mrs. Hudson as we walked up the stairs.

* * *

John arrived at, St. Bartholomew's Hospital. He marched down the hall-way of the Hospital to the lab entrance. Inside, Sherlock was absorbed in his research. He was peering down the lens of the microscope, trying to determine the DNA of the last blood sample.

As, John walked in, the door slammed shut behind him. Sherlock was so engrossed in his study, he just ignored it, assuming it was only, Molly.

"Ah! Molly, you're back. I was wondering where you had gotten to." Sherlock said enthusiastically, not taking his eyes off the blood.

"Um. No, not, Molly. Just me." John answered, scratching his head.

"John, what are you doing here?"

"What do you mean? You asked me to come here."

"No. I didn't"

"_Yes, you did_. I have the text right here." John debated, showing, Sherlock the message.

Sherlock walked over to, John, snatched the phone out of his hand and read the two messages received. While, Sherlock was reading, John had come to a realization;

"Wait, Sherlock. I thought your phone was missing. How did, Lestrade contact you?"

"I have two phones, John. I always a keep a back-up just in-case." Sherlock remarked.

"You're kidding? Tell me you're kidding. So all along, you had a second phone I didn't know about? Why?" John replied furious.

"Because at the time, you were closer. My other phone was in the drawer." Sherlock snarled.

As, Sherlock started texting a number, it caught, John's attention.

"Who are you texting?"

"We will find out soon enough, won't we?"

Sherlock put the phone down on the desk next to him and continued his research. He was so close to finding out the answer, he could feel it. As he was looking through the microscope, his phone started vibrating.

_ "I have something of yours,_

_ I have something blue, _

_ I have something borrowed, _

_ And, _

_ I have something not so new.- J.M" _

Sherlock got up off his chair and he began pacing around madly. His fingers were crossed underneath his chin, showing he was in deep thought.

"Sherlock, who was it?" John dared ask.

"Shut up. You're distracting. Don't talk, don't think, don't even breathe. In fact, just leave the room. I need to enter my mind palace." Sherlock demanded.

John rolled his eyes and waited outside for his deductions to be complete.

Sherlock laid on the floor, closed his eyes with his fingers still crossed under his chin. As he was in deep thought, he liked to do breathing exercises, it helped him relax when he had none of his nicotine patches.

* * *

_15 minutes earlier:_

"Darling, what type of cookies do you like?" Mrs. Hudson asked me while I was sitting on her lounge watching television.

"Oh, thank you for your offer, but honestly, you don't have to do that."

"Don't be silly, dear. I was going to bake some anyway. Sherlock and John always love my cooking." Mrs. Hudson laughed to herself.

I smiled back to her. She was so sweet and kind.

I heard footsteps approach the lounge. When I looked over, expecting to see, Mrs. Hudson. I screamed in terror. Standing above me was a man who wore a black and white suit and introduced himself, offering his hand.

"W-Where is, Mrs. Hudson?" I asked in a nervous tone.

"She is sleeping. Don't worry, she will be coming with us." The man assured.

"I'm not going _anywhere_ with you!" I bellowed.

"Now, come on. Don't make me put you to sleep too." He said holding up a chloroform bottle.

I looked at the door out of the corner of my eye, trying to figure out if I could get out in time.

"Oh no. The door. I didn't think of that. What am I going to do?" The man sarcastically said laughing.

I looked up and glared at him. I stared him straight in the eyes.

"Ohh. Fierce. I'm so scared. Come on! Just come with me, don't make this anymore difficult for me."

"Why would I _ever_ come with you?!" I hissed.

"Because if you be a good girl and obey my orders, you will get a reward."

"I'm not your dog!" I yelled, spitting in his face.

"You just made the wrong choice, sweetheart." He grunted wiping the saliva from his face.

The man charged over to me, pinning me onto the lounge, giving me no chance to escape. He drew his gun and aimed it at my head.

"So, let's go. Shall we?" He whispered.

* * *

"OH! That's it! Oh, I am clever!" Sherlock said to himself while jumping up onto his two feet out of excitement.

Still waiting outside, John heard the commotion from inside the lab. He couldn't help himself but look inside. As he looked in he saw, Sherlock full of energy, rapidly pacing around the small room, talking to himself.

As, John opened the doors, Sherlock raced up to him and grasped his shoulders.

"We have to go, John. 226 Glen-wood Gardens"

"Why?" John asked concerned.

"Unfinished business." Sherlock replied, wrapping his scarf around his neck, marching out of the lab.

* * *

The cab once again arrived at the same mansion for the third time that day. As, Sherlock opened the doors leading into the luxurious living room, he saw, Moriarty sitting on the lounge, waiting for him.

"Ah! Sherlock and John Watson. What a surprise to see you here." Moriarty chuckled.

"Enough with the games, Moriarty. What do you want?" Sherlock snapped.

"Oh, I couldn't tell you that now could I? That would spoil the surprise!"

"What are you talking about?" John asked

"Oh, well I guess you can get a sneak peek." Moriarty said while snapping his fingers.

In the silent mansion, footsteps sounded from the corridor. Two men in suits emerged from the shadows. Both of them walked out with one hostage. They were both tied up exceptionally well. They couldn't move or talk, just struggle.

Moriarty is exactly like a Spider, the more they struggle, the more glee he gets from watching them squirm. They are like insects in a web. Trapped. They're going to have a difficult time escaping his venom.

"So, do you recognize them, Sherlock?"

Sherlock gazed at the two captives and looked back at, Moriaty who had a sly grin on his face, enjoying the entertainment this provided him.

Sherlock restrained himself from saying anything. As much as he had the urge.

"Aww. Come on, Sherlock! This is a game! _So, play it._" Moriaty threatened.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm playing" Sherlock replied assertively.

"Well, in that case, let's get started then." Moriarty challenged, whilst digging into his pocket pulling out a piece of chewing gum.

While chewing his gum, Moriarty walked over to me placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't you lay one filthy finger on her!" John yelled fiercely.

"Sherlock, put your pet on a leash" Moriarty protested.

Sherlock was getting impatient. Whatever this 'game' was. He wanted it over and done with. He didn't find this_ fun_ or _amusing. _

"Let's get on with it, Moriarty." Sherlock demanded.

"Listen carefully to the rules. I will only say them once. I am going to ask you five questions; If you get any three wrong. All of your friends will die a painful, horrible death." Moriarty chuckled.

"And well, because I am a fair guy, if you just so happen to get all of the questions right, you will get a reward." Moriarty added.

Sherlock looked at, Moriarty puzzled;

"Ohh. That's sparked your interest. Hasn't it? Your reward will be _my death._ So let's get this party started." Moriarty teased.

Sherlock's eyes widened with confusion. As he looked to the floor, his reflection looked back at him through the shining marble. He attempted to read, Moriarty's body language, but failed. He came back blank. He couldn't understand his motives for this.

While, Sherlock was in deep thought, he soon got interrupted by the sound of, Moriarty's voice.

"Question 1! We have not contacted each other for 4 months. Last time I saw you, I tried to kill you. You have had your phone since up to two nights ago. So tell me this, Sherlock Holmes. How did I steal it?"

"Simple. _You didn't_. Let me explain this to your small mind. One week ago, John and I were on a case. You obviously have connections around the area. After they told you the situation, you hired, Victoria. When she broke into the apartment, she stole my coat which also happened to contain my phone. To cover this up, she purchased an exact replica thinking I wouldn't notice. I defiantly noticed."

"Oh. You are clever. Well done!" Moriarty cheered while clapping his hands together.

"You know what! I want to make this game a tad more interesting."

Moriarty whispered to one of the men who worked for him. As he whispered, the man nodded in acceptance. He walked over to, John and grabbed him by the shoulders, dragging him over to, Moriarty.

Moriarty stared at, John as he watched the terror in his face. The fear of not knowing. It's such a wonderful emotion to feed off. Nothing could compare to it.

"Put him with the others. Bind his hands and gag him. He deserves no special treatment. In fact, he deserves the worst treatment I could possibly think of. I'm really _enjoying_ this, Sherlock. The feel of control is so _good._"

Sherlock said nothing. He couldn't. He didn't want to get them into more trouble. Just play along, and it will be over soon enough.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. It's time for our next question! Sherlock, the riddle I texted you. I want you to tell me what it means. That shouldn't be too difficult, right?"

Sherlock looked around for a moment, examining everything. He didn't want to go for the most obvious answer. Which at this point, the most logical answer would be the hostages. But, it couldn't be that easy, could it?

"Hurry up, Sherlock. I forgot to mention one thing. Each question has a time limit. If you exceed this time limit. Bad luck. And oops..it looks like you just did."

"What! No! You said to me if I get three wrong. That was only one!" Sherlock argued.

"One person dies for each question you get wrong. Don't worry, Sherlock. Since you weren't aware of the circumstances. I will make the first death quick, no torture. I'm such a nice guy. Don't you think?" Moriarty taunted.

Moriarty looked over to the men standing behind the hostages and smirked at them.

"On the count of three. Kill Mr. Watson." Moriarty ordered.

Sherlock looked at, John with despair in his eyes. He saw how helpless, John felt. All hope gone. Even though they couldn't talk, they didn't need to. Emotions were enough.

"Do you want to know why I am doing this, Sherlock? Because I simply feel that watching your best friend die in cold blood, will be so much more entertaining then watching him get tortured hours at end. Torture. It's so boring. It's just so repetitive, so predictable. There is no fun in that." Moriarty groaned.

"You think you can out-smart _me_? Really? I am the greatest detective there is, and if you think you're going to trap me in your web. I'd like to see you _try._" Sherlock warned.

Moriarty looked at his men and then back to, Sherlock and he started cackling.

_"Watch me."_ Moriarty whispered.

Moriarty looked at his men and started counting;

_"One.."_

_"Two.."_

_"Thr-"_

"Hold on!" Sherlock shouted, interrupting, Moriarty just in time.

"Take me." Sherlock snarled.

_"Say that one more time."_ Moriarty said while grinning.

"You heard me. I said _take me_. I got, John into this mess. If it wasn't for me he wouldn't be in this position. I'm the one you want. Wouldn't you get more satisfaction out of killing me!?" Sherlock shouted.

Moriarty chuckled. He walked over and firmly took hold of, Sherlock's face.

"Sherlock, killing you would be _far_ to easy. I want to watch you _suffer._ I want you to endure pain. I want you to _burn_." Moriarty threatened.

"Do what you want with me, Moriarty. But the fact is you have men swarming this building. In fact, they're probably here right now, watching our every move, hiding in the shadows. If I dared tried to kill you, we would all be dead. Now tell me, Moriarty. What's the point of you dying if we die along with you?" Sherlock sneered.

Moriarty looked into, Sherlock's eyes, he began to cackle whilst chewing his gum.

"Sherlock. I want you to kneel." Moriarty commanded.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I. Said. Kneel!" Moriarty shouted while elbowing, Sherlock to the floor.

Sherlock got struck to the floor, kneeling before, Moriarty. He looked at his reflection on the floor, watching the blood run down his nose, hitting it.

I saw the blood running down, Sherlock's face. Seeing the blood hit the floor, watching it seep into the white marble, it made me feel energized. It made me feel _stronger. _

Moriarty, looked at me. He saw my blood-lust, my addiction. Maybe he understood me because at one point he has felt the same way. Only now, he knows how to control it.

Moriarty gave me a wink and a sly grin. He walked over to me, picked me up by the scruff of the neck and dragged me over to, Sherlock. He threw me on the ground like a piece of garbage. Underneath me, Sherlock's blood was everywhere. I became mesmerized in it. I embraced it.

"Elizabeth..." Sherlock muttered.

He grabbed my head, and made me look at him.

"Elizabeth, I am so sorry."

"I-I don't understand..What for?" I stammered

Sherlock put his forehead on mine, looking down towards the floor. The blood continued to drip, landing on my hands.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" I stammered.

He took a deep breath in, put his mouth to my ear and started whispering;

_"Elizabeth. I am sorry for everything. You never deserved to be treated that way. You never knew your, Father and I know why." _

I took my head away from, Sherlock's for a moment. Looking into his eyes I saw regret.

"Sherlock, what are you talking about?" I replied quietly, worried.

_"Elizabeth, I don't know how else to say this.. but... it's me. I'm your Father"_ Sherlock whispered in my ear.

My eyes gazed as he said those words. I looked back at him, in shock.

"I-I don't understand. Why are you telling me this?" I stuttered.

"Because you deserve to know." Sherlock replied.

Moriarty walked over to us, applauding;

"Isn't that sweet? Father and daughter, finally bonding after all these years. I just can't contain my excitement." Moriarty said sarcastically.

Moriarty snatched at, Sherlock's face, firming his grip around his jaw-line. He forced, Sherlock to look up at him,stare him dead in the eyes. Moriarty wanted to let everyone know who was in charge. We had no choice but to listen to him.

"Sherlock, you are _pathetic._" Moriarty spat while pushing, Sherlock's face away, blood still running down his face.

"Take him away. His business here is done. While you're at it, let go of, John Watson. There is something I want him to see later." Moriarty smirked, snapping his fingers.

Two men grabbed, Sherlock by the arms, pulling him up onto his feet. They bound his hands together before escorting him out of the room. They walked down the corridor and eventually they dissapeared into the darkness brewing on the other-side. Within minutes, Sherlock was gone.


	6. Pain and suffering

As, Sherlock was tied up in a small room, with only one window providing minimal sunlight, he heard the door creak open. It was, Moriarty. Sherlock was chained to the wall behind him. He was slouching over, his curls were draping over his face as he looked onto the cemented ground below him. The room was dark, cold, damp and isolating. It felt like a prison cell, only worse.

Sherlock heard, Moriarty's footsteps hit the cement, each step got closer until they suddenly stopped. Moriarty snatched at, Sherlock's chin and forced him to look up. When, Sherlock looked up into, Moriarty's eyes he saw nothing but resent, hatred and anguish. Moriarty did not see people as living things. They were targets or opportunities.

Moriarty walked to the corner of the dark room and held a whip in his hands. He stroked the whip as if it were a pet.

"Ohhh. Sherlock. You don't know how much fun I'm going to have doing this. Your pain is going to be my glee."

Moriarty brought the whip to the air. As he forced it down, it came gushing down, cracking Sherlock's skin. The loud cracking noise echoed throughout the mansion.

John, who was still tied up in the living room. He looked down the corridor as he heard the cracking sounds and screams. He couldn't do anything, all he could do was listen to, Sherlock's cries for help. Sherlock was always there to help John and now when he needed him the most, John couldn't be there.

Sherlock was panting for air at this point. The pain was excruciating. He didn't know how he was going to handle much more. With each crack more skin split. Sherlock could feel the blood running down his body and hitting the ground. For a moment, Moriarty stopped.

Sherlock slowly managed to rise his head. He saw, Moriarty walk out of the room. Sherlock could finally breath a sigh of relief... for now. He knew Moriarty was only getting started. This was a mere warm-up for what he had planned.

* * *

Moriarty appeared from the dark corridor, and continued to walk towards, John. He grabbed his arm and pulled him up, so he was on his feet. He pulled the gag out of his mouth and threw it behind his shoulder.

"Oh, John. I am going to have so much fun watching this and you know the best part? I get a front row seat."

"S-sorry? What will you be watching exactly?" John asked, panting for breath.

Moriarty cackled at his comment. He found it amusing.

Moriarty walked, John up the corridor, eventually getting swallowed into the darkness on the other-side. Moriarty unlocked the wooden door, smirking. As he opened the door, John looked at him, puzzled.

_'What is he up to?'_ John thought to himself.

The door opened and he shoved, John inside. Stumbling over his feet, he fell to his knees.

"Get up!" Moriarty demanded, picking him up by the arm and pushing him towards, Sherlock.

The sunlight coming through the window revealed his flesh wounds. The blood oozing out of the scars was running down his torso. John was petrified. He stood in place gazing at the scars across, Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock gently lifted his head up to what might be the final time he ever lays eyes on, John again.

Moriarty walked over to, John and placed a blade in his hand.

_"Torture him." _

"What?" John replied shocked looking at the blade in his hand.

"You heard me. I. Said. Torture. Him." Moriarty repeated.

"No. I will _never_ torture, Sherlock and there is nothing you can do to tell me otherwise." John said in defense.

"No? I had a feeling you were going to say something like that. Well, there is one thing. If you don't torture him; Sherlock will die a long and painful death and I am going to force you to watch his suffering. Now, tell me again which you would prefer?"

John stared at, Sherlock slouching over, exhausted, already in agonizing pain.

"The answer is still no." John said throwing the blade away.

"Fine. Have it your way."

Moriarty pulled a small silver key out of his pocket and locked the wooden door.

"Stand if you want. I don't mind."

He picked up the whip off the ground and stroked it in his hands. The cracking sound of the whip shot through the air as he hit the cement below.

"No! Okay, you proved your point...I'll do it. I'll torture, Sherlock." John frantically yelled.

Moriarty smiled and handed, John the whip.

"What? No, you said before I could use the blade.."

"You threw it away."

_'Shit. Well, there goes my plan of stabbing, Moriarty. John you're such an idiot.'_ John thought to himself.

John glanced at the blade and back at, Moriarty.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. John Watson, the only reason you are still alive is because you have been useful. As soon as that ceases to be true. I can get you and Sherlock killed within seconds. You won't even see your killer. So think twice before reaching for that blade." Moriarty states.

John knew he was right. But he wasn't completely out of options. John clenches his fist and abruptly hits, Moriarty in the face which knocked him out cold.

John frantically ran over to, Sherlock to check on him. He was barely conscious.

"J-John...I-is that you?" Sherlock struggled.

"Hey, yeah...yeah, it's me. You'll be okay. Oh god. What has he done to you?"

Sherlock moaned in pain. Blood was dripping off him everywhere. Everywhere, John looked there was blood. The wounds from, Moriarty whipping his skin were weeping and oozing.

"Oh my god, Sherlock." John said sympathetically, lowering his head and shaking it.

John looked around and dug the keys out of, Moriarty's pockets.

"Come on. One of these has to fits these chains." John sighed.

"J-John..." Sherlock murmured in pain as each breath he took he yelped in agonizing pain.

"What is it, Sherlock?"

"M-My pockets..I-In my pants." Sherlock struggled.

John reached into, Sherlock's pockets and pulled out a silver key. John looked at the key and back to, Sherlock with a smirk on his face. Sherlock started to quietly laugh, even though each time he done so, he would yelp in pain.

"I pick-pocketed it." He whispered.

"Well, let's get you out of here." John insisted.

John, un-locked the chains binding, Sherlock to the brick wall behind him. As, Sherlock collapsed into, John's arms, he caught him.

"Whoa. Easy there, Sherlock. It's okay. I got you." John said while putting, Sherlock's arm around his shoulder so he could help walk him out. As they steadily walk out of the room together, down the hallway, they suddenly heard footsteps behind them. John turned his head as best as he could and he saw walking towards them was, Moriarty with a gun pointed directly at, John. Moriarty paced fast up the hallway to catch up with them and when they were in his line of sight, he fired.

John hastily ducked the bullet, pulling, Sherlock down with him. The force of, John pulling, Sherlock to the ground caused him to wail in pain.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! We have to get out of here." John pleaded.

As, John and Sherlock slowly tried to run up the corridor, Moriarty fired another bullet at them.

"You can't escape me, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes."

They continued to dodge several bullets until they came to the dining room where Molly and Mrs Hudson were tied up still.

Suddenly, John let go of, Sherlock. He started falling down, everything around him went dizzy until he hit the floor with a loud thud. Sherlock on his knees lifted, John up into his arms. His eyes were like stone. He was petrified by what had just happened. The pain in his body at this moment went completely numb. Nothing else mattered anymore.

"John?"

"J-John please..can you hear me?" Sherlock choked, panicking.

Sherlock, took his hand away from, John's skull. It was covered in blood. He rapidly sat, John up and saw blood gushing out of his skull, running down his neck and seeping into his shirt.

"N-No! No you can't die.." Sherlock began weeping, holding John in his arms for this final moment.

Sherlock lowered his head onto, John's putting his forehead against his, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Whoa! Head-shot! I mean, I knew I was a good aim. But_ that_ good. Sometimes I surprise myself." Moriarty yelled from the corridor.

Sherlock attempted to start CPR on, John. He had to try save his life. Somehow.

"Come on! Dammit! WAKE UP." Sherlock yelled, rapidly doing CPR as fast as he could. But it was no use. John was already dead.


	7. Friends and Enemies

Sherlock stared down at John's body in shock. He couldn't comprehend what had just happened. It happened so fast.

As, Moriarty walked up beside, Sherlock who was still on he's knees mourning, he kicked, John's body. Sherlock glanced at his foot and slowly rose his head to see him looking down onto him.

"He should of listened. Anyway, I need to go and attend to the beautiful, Elizabeth. You and the other two are free to go."

"Why?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.

"Sherlock. I am dissapointed in you. I am a nice guy. Really, I am. But I have had my fun. It's time for you to go now."

"I'm not leaving without, Elizabeth."

"Sorry, but you are." Moriarty said snapping his finger.

Two large men un-tied, Molly and Mrs Hudson and pushed them towards, Sherlock.

"Leave." One of the men said in a gruff voice.

"Sorry, you must of misheard me." Sherlock insisted.

The men looked at, Moriarty and back to, Sherlock. They walked up and grabbed him by the arms and forced him out. Molly and Mrs. Hudson weren't far behind and followed them outside.

"What's he going to do to her?" Sherlock asked concerned.

The men ignored him and slammed the door in his face. Molly walked up to, Sherlock. She put her hand on his shoulder to try comfort him.

"Don't." Sherlock scolded.

Molly's face turned sad as she looked to the ground underneath her.

"I'm going back to the apartment. I need to be alone now."

"Wait..Sherlock! Let me help you." Molly pleaded.

"No. Leave me alone. I don't need anyone and I especially don't need _you._"

Sherlock walked down the steps of the main entry to hail a cab.

"221B Baker st, London."

The taxi man looked, Sherlock up and down, staring at his bloody body.

"Don't get my cab dirty. Otherwise you're paying for it."

"Yes, sir." Sherlock concurred, nodding his head.

* * *

Sherlock opened the door to his apartment. When he walked in he stared at, John's chair. The chair which he will never see, John in again. Sherlock sighed as he walked into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror to try process everything which had happened today.

The memories of today will continue to haunt, Sherlock everyday. He will never forget the day, John Watson died in his arms. He will not forget one detail of it. As long as, John's memory stays alive he will always be in, Sherlock's heart. He will always be the best man, Sherlock had ever known.

As, Sherlock splashed water on his face, he inspected the wounds covering his body. The injuries were dire. Sherlock knew he should be at hospital, but that wasn't going to happen.

Carefully, Sherlock un-done his pants. He slowly pulled them off, trying to minimize the pain as much as he could. Even bending over was excruciating.

"Sherlock!?" A voice called out.

"Are you here?"

The door gently opened as, Molly peeked into the bathroom.

"Sherlock..are you in he-"

In mid sentence, Molly suddenly stopped. She was shocked. She looked inside and saw, Sherlock completely naked.

"Oh. Oh my god. I am so sorry." Molly said in shock immediately shutting the door behind her, feeling humiliated.

"Molly! Next time knock!" Sherlock yelled as he grabbed a towel to wrap around himself.

"I know. I-I am so sorry. I feel like such an idiot." Molly said hitting her head on the door behind her.

The door slowly opened and, Sherlock peeked his head out.

"Why are you here?"

"Oh. Um. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Sherlock said confused.

"Sherlock. We both know that's not true. I saw your eyes when you were holding, John in your arms. The pain. I saw it."

Sherlock stood in silence for a moment, gazing off into the distance, almost like he was distracted.

"Thank you for your concern, Molly but I think it's best if you left now."

"Right. I'm sorry. I'm going to leave now."

As, Molly was about to walk away she stopped in her tracks and turned around.

"Sherlock. I can help you. Please let me." Molly plead.

"God dammit, Molly! I don't need your help!" Sherlock shouted as he punched the door. He looked down, disgusted in himself.

"I-Im sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Times aren't good." Sherlock sighed, looking away.

Molly walked up to, Sherlock, grabbing his hand that was clenched around the door. Sherlock looked at this kind gesture and looked back into her eyes.

"I can help." Molly insisted.

Sherlock opened the bathroom door and let, Molly inside. She smiled with gratitude as she slowly walked in. Making sure she is as careful as possible.

"Those wounds are horrific."

"I know. I was just about to take a shower. To get rid of some of the blood."

"Sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

Sherlock took, Molly's hand into his.

"Thank you." He said while kissing her cheek.

"You're welcome. You know, Sherlock. Those wounds really need to be treated with some antiseptic liquid. You can't leave them like that. They will get infected. I brought some antiseptic over from the hospital for you. I knew you wouldn't have any."

Sherlock was shocked at, Molly's kindness. Even though he yelled at her. She still cared.

"Thank you, Molly." Sherlock gulped.

"I think you need to relax, Sherlock." She replied, holding his hand within hers.

"Let me wash the wounds for you. I promise I will be gentle. I do work at a hospital after all."

"You work in the morgue."

"Close enough." Molly replied whilst smirking at her remark.

The two of them walked out to the lounge room together. Sherlock sat down on his lounge and Molly stood over him.

"Um. Are you not going to put any pants on?"

"Why? Does it disturb you? Make you un-comfortable?"

"Oh. No, not at all. You have a towel on. Why would it make me un-comfortable?"

Sherlock was confused by her reaction.

"Well, I am going to get some warm water ready. I will be back soon." She said trying to change the subject.

Sherlock looked around the apartment. No matter what, Molly said to him. He couldn't stop thinking about, John. Each moment of his death continually replayed in his head.

"I'm back. Okay, Sherlock. Sit back and relax. If you want to talk about anything at all. I'm here for you. I know how much you keep everything bottled up inside of you and you can't keep doing that to yourself. You need to let it out."

Sherlock listened to, Molly as she said every word, but he said nothing in return. He had nothing to talk about. Molly wasn't going to turn into his psychologist. People think if a 'psychologist' tells them to do something, it's going to make their whole life better. But why? It's just a title. Nothing more. What makes people think if they see that specific person. Everything is going to be okay. It doesn't make sense.

Sherlock stayed in deep thought for a moment, until he got distracted by the hot water running down his body.

Molly gently started dabbing the wounds and cleaning them. Being careful with every movement she makes that she doesn't hurt, Sherlock.

Sherlock gently took, Molly's face and made her stop what she was doing and look up at him. He slowly moved his face towards hers, leaning down, as she was kneeling. Their lips finally met and, Sherlock started to kiss, Molly romantically. Sherlock slid off the lounge to be at her level. As he done this, Molly crawled onto his lap and sat on his legs. Suddenly, Molly pulled away;

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked concerned.

"Sorry. I'm probably hurting you." Molly replied.

Sherlock grabbed, Molly's wrist before she could pull away and he gently said to her;

"Molly. You're doing the exact opposite. You're healing me."

Molly smiled and looked down at her shirt, she noticed it had blood-stains on it from leaning against, Sherlock's chest.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Molly. Crap."

"No, no it's okay. You have nothing to be sorry about." Molly said while grabbing, Sherlock's face, leaning her head onto his.

As soon as, Molly done this, Sherlock had flashbacks. The way he leant onto, John. It was exactly the same. It haunted him. At this moment, Sherlock pulled away.

"Sherlock. What's wrong? Why did you pull away from me like that?" Molly asked concerned.

"I'm sorry. It just brought memories back of me and-"

"John." Molly swiftly interrupted.

"Yes."

"It's okay. I understand. I was there, Sherlock. I saw the pain running through your body. I promise I'm going to make you better." Molly whispered.

"I know you will." Sherlock whispered back, kissing her lips once again and running his fingers through her hair.

Molly grabbed the bucket of hot water and proceeded to wash the blood off while sitting on, Sherlock's lap. As the hot water ran down, Sherlock's torso, he looked down and watched the blood run off him.

While, Molly continued to clean up, Sherlock. The door opened. It was, Mrs. Hudson.

"Sherlock! How dare you leave me behind back there. I am an old woman you should treat me with some respect!" Mrs. Hudson growled.

As she looked over and saw, Molly sitting on, Sherlock's lap. She screamed in horror.

"Mrs. Hudson! It's not what it looks like!" Molly yelled, but before she got the chance to finish, Mrs. Hudson ran away in shock.

"Sherlock, can I ask you a question?" Molly asked.

"Of course."

"Moriarty said, Elizabeth was your daughter. Is that true?"

"Yes." Sherlock gulped.

"I done the DNA tests myself. They came back positive. She is my responsibility now."

Molly took, Sherlock's head, making him look at her.

"Why did you leave?"

"I never knew, Victoria was pregnant. We were not in a relationship of any sort. It was for a case." Sherlock assured.

Sherlock heard his phone ringing from his pants in the bathroom.

"Excuse me." Sherlock said getting up. Holding his towel around him, he entered the bathroom and answered his phone.

"Moriarty. What do you want?" Sherlock scolded, closing the bathroom door.

"I just want to let you know, Elizabeth is on her way back now. We are finished with her."

"Doing what?"

Moriarty didn't answer and then the phone went dead. Sherlock slid the phone into the pockets of his pants as he put them back on, walking out of the bathroom he buttoned up his t-shirt.

"Is everything okay?" Molly wondered.

"It's fine. Elizabeth is on her way home. Molly, if you wouldn't mind I would like to be able to talk to, Elizabeth in private once she arrives."

"Oh. Of course. I need to go anyway." Molly said nervously.

Sherlock nodded at, Molly as she left the apartment and closed the door behind her.

Sherlock laid on the lounge, crossing his hands under his chin. He needed to know what, Moriarty was up to? What is he planning? And what does, Elizabeth have to do with it all?

As, Sherlock was thinking he heard a cab pull up outside the apartment.

I got out of the cab with a packed suitcase. Sherlock managed to walk to the door and open it for me before I even got the chance to knock.

"Hello, Elizabeth. Please sit down."

I walked over to the lounge and placed my luggage beside it. I immediately pulled out my phone and started texting.

"Put the phone away. Why did you bring a suitcase? What's in it?"Sherlock asked.

"You're not my Father. You're not even close to being my Father. So you cannot tell me what to do. You have not been there for the first fourteen years of my life. You don't know me, you don't know anything about me. Just because you helped bring me into this world. That does not make you a Father. You have to earn that title." I spoke as I continued texting.

Sherlock walked over to me and snatched the phone out of my hands and started reading who I was so engrossed in texting.

"So, I see you're texting your, Mother. Are you going to be living with me now, Elizabeth?" Sherlock said looking at my suitcase.

"Temporarily. I had no say in it. If it were my choice, I would be living alone."

"So tell me, Elizabeth. What did, Moriarty say to you?"

"Why?" I questioned.

"Because I'm curious. Now tell me." Sherlock said, putting his hands on my knees, bending down and looking into my eyes with intimidation.

"Yep. And you know what curiosity done. Don't you, Sherlock?" I countered.

"I know what happened to, John. I know how he died in your arms. He died trying to save your life. Curiosity kills people, Sherlock. Haven't you learn't your lesson? If you handed me over to the police like any normal person. John would still be alive." I continued seriously.

"How do you know about that? You weren't even in the room."

"Oh. Well, if you must know. Moriarty told me. He had lots of fun watching, John die. It's a shame. I was starting to like him."

"Tell me, Elizabeth. What happened while you were in that other room? Surely you have some stories to tell me." Sherlock persuaded.

"What makes you think I would tell you? I would never tell you."

"Oh. I wouldn't be so sure of that. Because I know a lot about you, Elizabeth. I happen to have your police records on hand. So, I know who you are and what you do."

I looked up at, Sherlock in shock and gulped.

"You may be a quiet person. But that is purely a cover-up for what dwells deep underneath. You have killed people. Now I'm going to give you two options. Tell me what your Mother and Moriarty told you or I am going to hand you into the Police." Sherlock threatened.

I looked out the window and hesitated for a moment before giving in.

"Alright. I'll tell you." I sighed.


	8. Blood-lust

_226 Glen-wood gardens. 2 hours ago: _

"Hello, Elizabeth!" Moriarty said to me as he walked inside enthusiastically.

"What do you want from me?" I snarled.

Moriarty didn't answer me. Suddenly the door opened. It was my Mother.

"Elizabeth! I'm so glad you came back." She said to me while she hugged me in her arms. When she shrouded her arms around me, I instantly tensed up, keeping my arms by my side.

"Get off me! I didn't come back. You're the one who dumped me in the first place." I said in an angry tone.

"Oh sweetie. You're confused. I didn't dump you. Darling, I would never do that."

"Yes you did. How dare you try and convince me otherwise. I don't know what you two are planning but I am not going to be involved in it. I'm leaving!" I replied enraged.

Before I could even walk over to the door, my Mother stopped me in my tracks.

"You're not going anywhere, Elizabeth." She said laughing.

I tilted my head and looked at the two master-minds. I saw them both smirking at each-other. They couldn't hide the grins from their faces. Whatever they were planning. I was a major role.

My mother took my hand and walked me over to my bed where we sat down together. She put her arm around my shoulders.

"You're such a special child. I love you so much. Elizabeth, believe me when I say this. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

_'Why was she saying this to me?'_ I thought to myself as I looked to the floor, confused.

"Elizabeth. I promise I will try be a better, Mother from now on. You have to understand. I had to raise you alone. You're Father dissapeared and he wanted nothing to do with you. I have had a hard life and you know that. Please don't make it any harder. I try my best. If there is anyone you should be hating, it should be your Father. After all he is the one who ran away. Maybe if he was around, our lives wouldn't be so tough."

I looked up to her, tears dwelling behind my eyes. She was right. This _"man"_ is a total stranger to me. He was no Father of mine.

"I understand." I said to her calmly.

"Elizabeth, there is something I need you to do for me."

"What is it?" I asked.

"I need you to do some under-cover work for me. Go live with, Sherlock temporarily. Report back to me daily. Tell me what he does. Can you do that for me, Elizabeth?"

"Yes..of course I can. But why?" I asked confused.

She ignored my question, pulling out a suitcase from under my bed.

"What's this?" I questioned.

"Your clothes."

She quickly ushered me out the door, hurrying me along. She was eager. It scared me how keen she was.

* * *

After I was ushered outside, Victoria walked over to, Moriarty who was waiting inside.

"Well done, Victoria. I am surprised she fell for that." Moriarty said surprised.

"Of course she fell for it. All she wants is my love and you know what, she is never going to get it. She is a filthy scrag. But she could be useful."

* * *

_221B Baker Street- Present:_

"And that's everything." I said to, Sherlock as he was sitting in-front of me, with his hands held together under his chin, reading my body language.

"That makes no sense. Why does she need you to spy on me? Well, now I know what you were doing with this." He says to me, holding up my mobile phone.

"I don't know why. But, Sherlock. I want you to know, I'm never going back there. The way that woman treated me. Words don't describe it. This is going to be my escape plan. Sherlock, look at the phone. You never read the text..Just who I was sending it to." I pointed out.

Sherlock looked down at the phone. The text read:

_"I am never coming back. How dare you demand I work for you. You two disgust me."_

Sherlock looked up at me after reading the text. He didn't know if I was telling the truth or not. Sherlock, tapped the phone screen and sent the message right before throwing it back to me.

"I hope you did want that message sent?" He asked me, hoping to get some type of reaction from me to deduce. But nothing.

"Yes. I am serious. I'm never setting foot in that house again."

Sherlock walked over to me. He tried his best to read my body language but still nothing. He ruffled his hair in frustration and let out a groan. He didn't like it when he couldn't read people, it made him feel so clueless, so un-aware.

"Your bedroom is upstairs. You can stay here as long as you need."

"You believe me?" I asked surprised.

"No. I don't. But you are right about one thing. I am curious. I want to know what, Victoria wants. So do what she says. Report to her daily. What is she planning?" Sherlock asked intrigued.

I didn't answer him because I didn't know either and that's what I wanted to find out.

I took my suitcase upstairs to my new bedroom. So this is where I am going to be living from now on. Sherlock thinks this is going to be temporary. What a lie. I plan to live here for as long as I can.

As I sat on my bed I heard a knock and then the door opened it was, Sherlock.

"I hope the room will suffice for you. It's not the luxurious life-style you are used too."

"It's fine." I replied in a shallow tone.

I looked out my window, angry. Sherlock could notice there was something wrong.

"So, are you going to tell me the truth now about what really happened while in that room?"

I clench my fists on the bed and begin to breathe out through my nose, showing I was enraged. I didn't want to talk about it but if I didn't, Sherlock was going to hand me in to the Police.

"I did tell you the truth." I said through gritted teeth.

"You told me half of the story. Not all of it. You were in that room for two hours. Other things must of happened and it is obviously something major because you don't want to tell me. So tell me, who did, Moriarty make you kill?" Sherlock deduced.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I hesitated.

"So, I suppose that isn't blood on your sleeve then? Care to explain?"

"I had a blood nose. Moriarty punched me."

"No, he didn't. He wouldn't hurt you. He needs you un-harmed for whatever they're planning. So tell me who did he make you murder?"

"I-I didn't know who it was. Moriarty said if I didn't want to die I had to kill an innocent woman." As I said this a tear ran down my cheek. I quickly wiped my face so, Sherlock wouldn't see. But it was to late.

"You're crying?"

"No." I replied stubbornly

Sherlock smirked at my remark. He could see himself in, Elizabeth. When he was younger he always used to be stubborn too.

"Why did he make you kill her?"

I looked up at, Sherlock, my eyes were glittering with tears, until eventually I broke down and fell to the floor, sobbing un-uncontrollably. I had shed blood and the thing I was disgusted in the most is that- _I liked it. _

The tears were rolling down my face, hitting the floor. I heard, Sherlock's footsteps walk over to me and he put an arm around my back, comforting me until he lifted me up and pulled me into a hug.

"No, stop. I deserve this." I say.

"It wasn't your fault, Elizabeth. You can't blame yourself."

"Who else is there to blame? I was the one with the blade. She ran into my blade ten times." I whisper.

Sherlock pulled me back and looked at my swollen face from crying. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"And that wasn't even the worst part..." I continued

Sherlock waited for my continuation of the story, but I hesitated. I couldn't say anymore. Flashbacks came back; the blood was everywhere, it covered my entire body and I wasn't one bit phased by it. Moriarty walked up to me, stroking my head as my Mother sat and watched me. She watched me kill a woman. She watched me as I stabbed her ten times. Once wasn't enough for, Moriarty he wanted to see the blood pour out.

"Elizabeth. Speak to me." Sherlock demanded, gripping my shoulders as I gaze to the floor, distracted in my thoughts.

My voice trembled as I tried to manage the next part out. It wasn't easy.

"S-she was pregnant." I say before breaking down on, Sherlock's shoulder, hugging him closely to me.

"Why did, Moriarty want you to kill her?" Sherlock asked again.

I leant up to his ear and whispered to him;

_"Because he liked it." _

Sherlock looked deep into my eyes, examining me.

" My question for you though is- Did _you _like it, Elizabeth?"_  
_

I gulped. _Crap._ He could see it in my eyes.

"How could you say something like that?" I snapped at him.

" Elizabeth. Stop lying. I saw you back at the mansion. You were craving the blood dripping off me. The face you had back there, is the same you have now. It's the face of someone who has an addiction and needs their daily kick."

My hands started trembling, my whole body started shaking.

"Withdrawals. Your body isn't handling this very well I see. You need to see blood. Or maybe that isn't enough anymore. Maybe you need to be the one to cause the damage to begin with."

My face started to sweat and I started to heat up.

Sherlock looked at me, confused;

_'She shouldn't be this bad.'_ Sherlock thought to himself.

I stumbled over to the bed, gripping the bed sheet and pulling myself onto it, freezing cold one minute and hot the next.

"I will get you a cold face-washer."

"That's not what I need, Sherlock. You know what I _need_." I growl at him, with my hands tightly gripping the sheets underneath me.

Sherlock walked up and grasped my arms as I laid on my back.

"Yes. I do know what you need. But you're not getting it. You need to detox."

As, Sherlock walked out the door. I held my stomach in pain as I felt sick to the stomach. For a moment there, I thought I was going to to be sick. I nearly was. I hanged my head over the small garbage bin, waiting any moment for the sickness to come out of me. But nothing happened. There was no relief. Not even for a minute.

I curled up into a ball on the ground, feeling dis-orientated. As I looked around the room, I needed a blade, something sharp. _Anything._

I looked up onto a small wooden writing desk in my bedroom that had pencils littered over it. My hand slowly trembled hitting the desk, trying to reach for one. Once I felt one in my grip, I snatched it, shaking while trying to lower my arm. I rose my arm into the air and with great pressure I plummet down into my arm vein, gouging at my skin, creating any type of hole I could. I couldn't do this anymore. I needed to see _blood. _


	9. Agony

I gouge into my arm, ripping the skin. The blunt object made it agonizing but I couldn't deal with having withdrawals. As I ripped the skin, blood came oozing out, once I saw the blood run down my arm, I knew I could breathe a sigh of relief. Finally.

I laid on the ground sprawled out, my arms leaking onto the floor.

I heard, Sherlock walk in. He could see the blood running out of my forearm. He knelt down beside me and put the cold face-washer on my face.

"What have you done?" He said to me shaking his head.

"You don't understand. I had to do it. This demon inside of me. _Feeding._ I wish I could stop but I can't." I explain.

"No. You don't want to stop it. You like it. It makes you feel strong."

The feeling I had inside of me. There wasn't enough words to explain it. The feeling was in-describable. Now I know how serial killers are made. They get this addiction and they won't stop. They don't care who they have to kill. The blood takes over their life.

Sherlock reached for the face-washer off my forehead and placed it on my bloody arm. Holding my arm firmly, he put as much pressure as he could on it to try and stop the bleeding.

"Ouch!"

"You're an idiot! Look at what you done to yourself. This is going to stop. _Now._" Sherlock demanded as I laid on the ground, still feeling exhilarated.

Sherlock lifted me up and put me on the bed as he done this, he cringed in pain.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"Nothing."

Sherlock walked to the bathroom. When he was facing himself in the mirror he lifted up his shirt to look at the wounds covering his torso. Since, Molly washed them, they had already healed significantly, but of course it was going to take a long time for the skin to heal completely. If they ever did. Scars were to be expected.

Scars hold memories, every scar holds it's own story and this was his. Every-day, Sherlock would have to look down at his own scars and remember this day and he will. He will never forget scars will remind, Sherlock every day of the man who killed, John Watson. Moriarty is going to pay for what he done and Sherlock is going to indulge in that moment. He wasn't sure when that day would come, but he is going to make sure it happens. Even if it's the last thing he does.

* * *

Upstairs in my bedroom, I still felt sick. The blood was slowing down from my arm, now only dripping every few seconds, the wound was very deep and throbbing with pain. I seem to have noticed the pain more now. Before I was so full of adrenalin I didn't notice it, but those few seconds of heaven are gone now.

Suddenly my stomach began cramping up. I clenched my stomach, whelping quietly to myself in pain as I fell off the bed, landing onto my knees. I put myself into a fetal position on the ground. Tears were streaming off my face. This pain was worse then anything I have ever experienced, even gouging out the skin of my own forearm.

As I try to get onto my knees, I feel dizzy and I suddenly dip my head into the near-by garbage bin and begin to vomit. As I was vomiting I saw red drip onto my hands. I crawl over to my mirror where I see my mouth covered in rich, red blood. I didn't know what to do. My body was so confused. I was in excruciating pain but at the same time I loved watching the blood come out of my body.

I crawled to the door and pushed it open and slithered my way down the stairs. Each step down I dragged myself to the next. It was a long process, it felt like the stairs were never going to end. When I made it to the bottom I collapsed, crying in pain. It felt like something inside of me was being removed without the anesthetic and I could feel everything.

I looked up into the living room, coughing up blood and I saw no one there. Where was, Sherlock? I need him. If he wanted to show he is my Father. This is his time.

Walking out of the bathroom, trying to clear his mind of his thoughts, Sherlock picks up a newspaper for reading, he was hoping this will clear his mind a bit. He always loved indicating how small minded people were always incorrect when writing their columns.

As he was about to sit down on a chair, he stopped in his tracks and slowly turned his head to see me lying on the floor, still coughing up blood and crying in agonizing pain while I still remained in a fetal position.

"Elizabeth!" Sherlock exclaimed, dropping the newspaper and running over to assist me.

Sherlock ran to me and slid onto his knees, holding me in his arms, like a protective Father would. I started coughing again, blood ran down my chin and dripped onto, Sherlock's pants, as he held my head on his lap.

Sherlock looked at my face, I had instantly gone pale and I started shivering forcing my teeth to chatter against each other. He obtained his coat from the hanger and shrouded it around my shoulders before tucking me underneath his arms, hugging me, trying to use his body heat to keep me warm. After a few minutes I began to calm down, I was getting warmer.

"_Shh._ It's okay. I'm here. We are going to get you to a hospital." Sherlock said in a low tone of voice.

Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone and rang emergency services.

"Hello. There seems to be something severely wrong with my daughter. She is coughing up blood and she has a fever but she is freezing cold. Send an Ambulance quick! 221B Baker Street."

I looked up into my Father's eyes as my head was still lying on his lap.

_'Daughter? Did he really consider me being his daughter?'_ I pondered to myself in shock.

"Elizabeth. You're going to be okay. Look, you have already stopped coughing up blood. It's going to be okay." Sherlock gulped.

I just laid there, starring into the distance, enjoying the company of a parent who actually cared for me. It was something I have never experienced. Genuine care.

We heard the sirens outside of the apartment and two ambulance men barge inside. I ignored them. I wanted to savor this moment for as long as I could.

"Sir, we are going to have to ask you to move. Please step aside." One of the Ambulance men said.

"Her name is, Elizabeth." Sherlock said without delay.

When, Sherlock slipped my head off his lap, I just continued to lay on the ground, gazing into the living room for a moment until a heard a distant voice.

"Elizabeth! Can you hear me?"

I snapped out of my dreaming state and looked at the men trying to help me, I still felt drowsy but I tried to make out what they were saying to me as good as possible. Suddenly my eyes got pierced by a bright light. I squinted my eyes looking away. What are they doing? Get rid of that horrible bright light.

"Elizabeth...How many fingers am I holding up?"

I squinted my eyes trying to make out the number, but it was all blurry. Suddenly my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I fell-unconscious.

The ambulance men immediately checked my pulse on my wrist, there was nothing. So he moved his fingers up onto my neck, still no pulse.

"We need to start CPR immediately. Get me an oxygen tank!" The man demanded.

As soon as he said this the second man scrambled inside the ambulance obtaining an oxygen tank and running back, putting it over my face while the first man continued to do CPR on me before it was to late.


	10. Two wrongs don't make a right

Sitting inside the hospital, Sherlock was waiting by my bedside, leaning forward, using his arms as support as his fingers were crossed underneath his chin,examining me, waiting for me to re-gain consciousness. He heard the door open. It was my Doctor.

"She will awaken soon."

"What's wrong with her?"

"We ran multiple tests and we couldn't find anything abnormal. We would like to keep her in overnight for observation but besides that she should be able to go home tomorrow."

These Doctors were going to allow her to go home? When it's clear there is something seriously wrong. Just because they can't find what is causing it, they think it's no longer their problem. Bullshit.

"Bring her back in immediately if anything happens." The Doctor stated before walking out.

Sherlock sat by my side for a few minutes until I started to awaken from my slumber. I let out a groan and slowly opened my eyes.

"Hello, Elizabeth." Sherlock said in his deep voice.

"Where am I?"

"Hospital. You don't remember?"

"I-I don't know. It's all kind of blurry." I said

"Well, the good news is, is that you're fine. Everything is going to be okay. They just want to keep you in overnight for observation but you can come home tomorrow."

Sherlock only said this to me for comfort, so I wouldn't worry, but he knew deep down inside his gut, there was something wrong. He couldn't simply put it down to withdrawals. He knew coughing up blood was defiantly not a symptom.

Withdrawals are mind over matter if you are addicted to something and you believe you can give it up, the effects are going to be drastically lower simply because you're calmer about the ordeal but once you start panicking because you can't get your daily kick. That's when issues within the body start arriving.

Sherlock had already witnessed the most common side-effects earlier-_Hot and cold flushes, shaking and mood changes. _They are all symptoms of withdrawals. But coughing up blood and stomach pains are not. Those are physical. It's the body telling itself something isn't right. It's logical.

These Doctor's study at medical school for years, the more in depth their studies become the faster they forget the basics. They begin to think that everything must have a complicated diagnoses when in reality that's false.

"So did the Doctor say what caused any of this?" I asked.

"They're not sure but if they say you're okay to go home tomorrow, then you are." Sherlock said seriously.

"I am heading back to the apartment. You can catch a cab back home tomorrow morning once you get discharged from the hospital."

Sherlock walked out the door, leaving me. He was angry with me, quite right too.

All of a sudden my phone began ringing as I reached for it, it was my Mother.

"Hello..." I said, voice shaking slightly.

"Sorry about the late reply. I did get your text. I admire your courage, wanting to leave home. Saying I disgust you? Tough words."

"No. Not tough, just the truth."

I could hear my, Mother laughing on the other end.

"Elizabeth. If you don't do what I say. I can get you killed within minutes. I have eyes everywhere. Every stranger you see, you won't know who is working for me and who isn't. If you just so happen to stumble upon one of my networks, they report back to me and tell me what you're doing. And if I find out you're not doing your assigned task. You're dead."

_"I never said I wasn't going to do it."_ I bragged.

To my, Mother's shock she fell silent and then the phone went dead.

Sherlock said that he wanted me to do what she said. So that's exactly what I'm going to do.

* * *

Back at the apartment, Sherlock laid on his lounge trying to relax, thinking everything through. He was in complete silence, using his nicotine patches to help him clear his mind.

He heard the door open as he looked over he saw, Lestrade walk in.

"What do you want?"

"I have a case that you might want to see."

"Does it involve either, Victoria, Moriarty or Elizabeth?" Sherlock asked calmly.

"No. But I think you are going to want to see it." Lestrade commented.

"I'm already dealing with a case, Lestrade. My own. Now if you would leave."

"But, Sherlock!" Lestrade plead.

"Lestrade. Leave. Now. I won't tell you again."

"What's wrong with you, Sherlock? I thought you would be jumping around the room in excitement, but instead you're just lying there, absorbing yourself in your thoughts."

Lestrade scanned the room, noticing something wasn't right.

"Where is, John?"

Sherlock stared at the ceiling and gently tilted his head so he was facing, Lestrade directly.

"Please leave."

"Sherlock. Tell me what happened to, John."

Sherlock jumped up onto his feet savagely, aggressively walking over the coffee table so he became face to face with, Lestrade.

"He's dead. Now leave. I don't care what case you have to offer me. I don't want it. I'm dealing with my own case at the moment. Now, I won't ask you again. Leave."

Lestrade looked directly at, Sherlock. His face expressed the emotion of a broken man.

"I am sorry, Sherlock. You should get some rest. I will be in contact later. Goodnight."

Sherlock slouched back down onto his lounge, depressed. He looked at, John's chair. All the memories he had of them together all came rushing back. As he curled up on his side, he remembered all the good times they had together. Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, it made him feel at peace until eventually he drifted off and went into a deep sleep.

* * *

Sherlock suddenly got woken up by a force shaking him vigorously.

"Sherlock! Wake up!"

He started to open his eyes, squinting them to attempt to make out the figure in front of him.

"Sherlock!"

"Elizabeth? What are you doing home?"

"It's 1:00pm. I have been trying to wake you for hours." I stated.

"Hours? Impossible."

"Your phone has been ringing off the hook by the way. I didn't want to intrude and answer it but it could be important. You should call them back."

Sherlock reached for his mobile phone and on the screen it read he had ten missed calls from, Greg Lestrade. Sherlock simply ignored them and slipped the phone into his pocket. He already told him no. He isn't ready to do another case. Not yet.

"So how are you, Elizabeth?" Sherlock asked concerned.

"I'm fine. How are you?"

Sherlock didn't answer. He knew he wasn't dealing with this very well. To be honest he thought he was going to have a mental break-down soon, but he couldn't let the people around him know that. He had to remain strong.

Sherlock's phone began to ring again;

"Lestrade! Would you bloody piss off! I already said no!" Sherlock yelled answering his phone.

"Sherlock where the hell have you been?! I have been ringing you for hours! You need to get over here _now_! I have a case and I need you on it with me."

"Lestrade. I have already said no. How much clearer do I have to make it?"

Sherlock hung up the phone. In frustration he threw it across the room so it hit the wall.

"Who's Lestrade?" I asked in a concerned tone.

"No one. Don't worry about it. So did the Doctor's say anything else to you before you came home?"

"Nothing." I replied quietly.

Sherlock looked at me. He was deducing my body language again. He didn't believe me.

"So, have you been reporting to your, Mother like I asked you too?" He asked me sternly.

"Not yet, but I will. Don't worry."

"Good. Because I want to know what she is planning."

I nodded. I felt like the meat in the sandwich. My Mother wanted me to spy on, Sherlock and Sherlock wanted me to spy on my, Mother. It was a win win situation. I couldn't loose.

I was curious about who, Lestrade was and why did he need, Sherlock so desperately. Sherlock wouldn't tell me but sometimes curiosity got the better of me too.

"Elizabeth, tell me, what day is it?"

"What? Um...It's Monday." I replied.

"And why aren't you in school? And don't tell me it's because you just got out of hospital. That's no excuse."

"_It's a pretty good excuse to me._" I muttered under my breath.

I saw, Sherlock shoot a glare at me in response to my smart-arse remark. He wasn't in the mood.

"I never went to a public school. I got home schooled." I replied annoyed.

"Home schooled, eh? Well, in that case tomorrow we are going to en-roll you into a public school. No excuses."

"What! You can't do that to me. I have been getting home schooled since the very beginning. You can't just rip that away from me and throw me in some school for peasants!" I retaliated.

"And tell me, what would I be ripping you away from? For as long as you live here you will do what I say, and you are going to a public school. I don't care how much you hate it."

"Why? What's your excuse for this drastic decision?"

"It's not drastic, Elizabeth. It's called being logical. You have no computer anymore. How do you expect to do your work?"

I snarled at, Sherlock. He wasn't going to get away with this. I knew why he wanted me in a public school- He didn't want me in his presence any longer than needed. Well, isn't he going to get a surprise?

"I could use, John's laptop." I suggested.

Sherlock stared me dead in the eyes. At that moment, I knew I had no chance now. I ruined any chance of persuading, Sherlock's decision.

"Let's get one thing straight, Elizabeth. If I see you lay one finger on, John's laptop. You can say goodbye."

I stood there in shock as, Sherlock abruptly started threatening me. I watched him aggressively put on his coat and scarf before storming out the door. I peeked out the window where I saw him getting into a cab, speeding off into the other direction.

I turned around in utter shock. I didn't know what to think about first. There were so many things happening and I had no answers for any of them. Sherlock abruptly walking out has only added to my concerns. Where was he going?

I didn't know how long, Sherlock was going to be gone for but I was willing to take the risk. I ran up to my bedroom, changing clothes. I needed to find, Lestrade. He could have the answers I'm searching for. I'm not going to let this opportunity escape me.

* * *

"You have got to be bloody kidding me!" Lestrade yelled.

"I'm here. Now what do you want?" Sherlock demanded.

"Yeah, you're here. I don't need you anymore, Sherlock." He replied slightly annoyed with, Sherlock's attitude.

"You always need me, Lestrade." Sherlock joked.

Lestrade and Sherlock walked to the scene where the dead body was, once they arrived they witnessed a girl lying face down on her stomach, blood covering the area around her body. As he walked over for a closer look he put on some white rubber gloves ready for examination;

Sherlock turned the young blonde over and saw her face had been completely brutalized. Her face was barely recognizable. Gently he stuck a finger inside of her mouth, opening her jaw, only to reveal she had no teeth, but not only that, she had no tongue.

"What the hell? Who chops off the tongue?" Lestrade questioned, disgusted.

"Obviously someone who wants to give us some fun." Sherlock said with a grin.

"Show me the evidence. What have you found?"

"Well, that's where it gets interesting. There wasn't anything left behind except for this note:

_'I wear a blue dress, I was the second in line. There are two bodies down and two more left in line.'_

Sherlock examined the note thoroughly before getting interrupted;

"Sherlock, this evidence is worrying. What do you deduce from it?"

"There have been two murders and if we don't stop it soon, there will be two more. The person is obviously always thinking one step ahead of their actions. They know how we're going to react to each murder. If they didn't, their whole scheme could back-fire. This suggests the person is good at being manipulative, and they know it too. They are devious and sly. Oh these are my favorite people, Lestrade!" Sherlock boasted, clapping his hands together with a huge grin across his face.

"Well, it's good to see you're getting back to your good old self." Lestrade commented shaking his head.

Sherlock ran to the next cab driving by to get back to the apartment as quickly as possible to gather more evidence.

* * *

When, Sherlock opened the door he scanned the room, he couldn't see me anywhere. He walked up to my bedroom. While he was opening the door, he was hoping that I have not done something stupid to myself again. Sherlock looked inside and saw nothing. I was nowhere to be seen.

When, Sherlock couldn't see me anywhere he soon assumed I had gone for a walk somewhere to calm down. Which was partly true. But what he didn't know was where I was going and for what reason. That's going to stay my own secret, he won't know anything. In my spare time I am going to gather my own evidence, I am going to find out what, Moriarty and Victoria have planned. No matter what.


	11. No more secrets or lies

I slammed closed the cab door, strolling towards the crime scene. It wasn't hard to find the crime scene in broad day-light. As I strutted towards the scene an officer grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back, stopping me in my tracks.

"Sorry. You can't go in there. Police investigation." The man said.

"Are you, Lestrade?" I inquired without hesitation.

The man suddenly observed me oddly, looking me up and down.

"And who might you be?" The man questioned.

"I'm the daughter of, Sherlock Holmes." I reply smugly.

The man's face suddenly dropped in shock, he had trouble trying to wrap his head around the concept.

"_You?_ You're, Sherlock's daughter?" The man managed to spit out.

"Answer my question. Are you, Lestrade or not?" I ask, growing impatient.

"Yes. I am. I'm the one who told, Sherlock you were his child. You should of seen his face. He couldn't believe it" He chuckled.

"So, it's true then? I really am, Sherlock's kid?"

Lestrade nodded.

"But regardless of that. You still can't be here. Your Father is the detective _not you_." He said, trying to usher me away.

I grabbed, Lestrade's wrist, swiping him off me.

"That's not why I'm here, Lestrade. I need your help. _Now_."

His face changed expressions within seconds. He was suddenly very intrigued about what I had to offer him.

"Can we speak somewhere private?" I insisted.

"Of course." He replied, nodding courteously.

Lestrade led me to his Police car, where he opened the door for me. I slipped into the back-seat, looking out the window in deep thought. Lestrade looked into his revision mirror, looking at my reflection.

"You look like him."

His voice caused me to quickly snap out of my thoughts, and direct full attention onto him. It took me a moment to register what he just said to me.

"S-Sorry?" I replied hesitantly.

"Sherlock. You look like him. He does that too. He is always getting absorbed in his thoughts. Must run in the family." Lestrade commented with a smirk before speeding off.

* * *

At the Police station, Lestrade led me into a private interview room, closing the door behind him he pulled out a chair. He sat down on the opposite side of the table, waiting for me to explain why I was here.

"Elizabeth. This better be important. I just abandoned a murder scene for this. So make it worth my while."

I leaned in forward, looking, Lestrade in the eyes.

"What can you tell me about, Victoria and Moriarty?" I questioned.

"Victoria? As in your, Mother?"

"Yes. Yes. Now tell me. What do you know about them?" I said, trying to hurry him along.

"What's this about, Elizabeth?" Lestrade questioned concerned.

"They're up to something and whatever it is, it's not good. So give me any information you know about them. You're the only person I can count on at the moment."

Lestrade's phone started buzzing. It was a text message:

_"Elizabeth's missing. Come quickly. -S.H."_

Lestrade looked up from his phone and looked back at me, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"So, Sherlock doesn't know you're here then?" He questioned.

"No. He doesn't. He just texted you. Didn't he?" I replied, not breaking eye contact.

"His worried about you, Elizabeth. Come on I'll take you home."

As, Lestrade was about to get up off his chair, I punched the table underneath me, causing him to stop in his tracks. Fury was riddled across my face.

"No. You will give me, Moriarty's and Victoria's police files. _Now._ That's an order." I demanded.

Lestrade looked down onto me, he started chuckling to himself.

"Just because you are, Sherlock's daughter that doesn't give you any privileges. We're done here, Elizabeth. Go home. Be a normal teenager."

"I haven't been a normal teenager in a _very_ long time, Lestrade. By the way, that murder. You might want to examine that note left behind a bit better." I winked, walking out of the station. Leaving, Lestrade speechless.

* * *

I walked into the apartment, Sherlock was lying on the couch, hands crossed underneath his chin. His arm was sprawled out on the couch, hanging over the edge. His sleeve was rolled up revealing three nicotine patches.

As I slammed the door, his eyes instantly opened up.

"Where have you been?" He questioned.

"Out." I replied bluntly.

"Sit down, Elizabeth. We need to talk."

I sit down, crossing my legs over, waiting for a lecture.

"Tell me, why were you visiting, Lestrade? What business do you have with him?"

"I don't even know who, Lestrade is. How do you expect me to visit him?"

"I'm the last person you should be lying to, Elizabeth. Tell me why you saw him. I won't ask again."

"He texted you. Didn't he?" I questioned.

"Precisely."

_Shit._ I knew right then, my cover was blown. I either tell him the truth and everything gets blown out if proportion _or_ I lie...

"I was trying to find you, Sherlock. I assumed because he rang you so many times you would still be with him by the time I got there. But it looks like that wasn't the case."

Sherlock sat up, he began examining me. He didn't know whether to believe me or not. He didn't completely trust me, he didn't know whose side I was on. To him I was a mystery being unraveled one step at a time.

"Why? You knew I was going to be back. Why would you search for me?"

"I wanted to apologize for my attitude earlier. I am still against your decisions. But I shouldn't of acted that way."

Sherlock said nothing, he simply just glared at me.

All of a sudden I got an excruciating head-ache. I nursed my head in the palms of my hands, not knowing what's wrong with me. Sherlock ran over to me, bending down in-front of me, grasping my arms in his hands, panicking.

"Elizabeth! What is it? What's the matter?"

I couldn't respond. The pain was intense.

"Come on. We are getting you to hospital. The Doctor said if anything else happens, we have to take you back. Something isn't right with you and I swear I am going to find out what it is. No matter what."

I stumble up onto my feet, collapsing into, Sherlock's arms. I had no energy. I didn't know what was wrong with me. But not under any circumstance was I going to allow, Sherlock to take me back to Hospital.

"I'll be fine, Sherlock. Leave me. I just need some rest and I'll be good as new." I mumbled through the pain.

Sherlock stood up, he watched me as I continued to nurse my head in my hands. He sighed as he lifted my body onto his lounge, putting a blanket over me for comfort.

"Elizabeth, I want you to know, if anything ever happened to you, I would never forgive myself. Please don't put me in that situation. I need you. I have already lost, John. Don't make me loose you too."

I lift my head out of my hands, and feel sadness over-take my emotions, or was it guilt? I couldn't even tell anymore. I had so many things going through my head, so many emotions conflicting with each other. I didn't know what I was feeling but I didn't like it.

All I wanted was someone to love me. Was that so much to ask?

"Sherlock I have a question to ask you. And please don't lie to me. Just tell me the truth so I know where I'm standing in all of this mess."

As I tried to continue my speech, I froze. My voice began to shake slightly. I wasn't making any eye contact with, Sherlock. I knew this would only make my anxiety worse. Sherlock could sense my nervousness, he wasn't sure what to do, so he just stood in place, waiting for me to speak.

"Do you love me, Sherlock?" I managed to blurt out, still not giving him any eye contact. I didn't want to see the expression on his face. I just wanted a truthful response. I needed to know.

He lowered his head, and I slowly heard his footsteps make his way over to me. He sat down beside me, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in closer to him.

"Why would you ask something like that? Does it really need saying?" He responded gently.

Sherlock pulled me in tighter to his waist, still underneath his arm. He took hold of my hands and gently kissed my forehead. As he done this I closed my eyes. For once in my life I actually felt wanted. I finally felt like someone cared about me.

As, Sherlock pulled away, he saw I had my eyes shut, taking in this rare moment.

"Are you feeling better? You don't seem to be in as much pain." Sherlock questioned, quickly trying to change the subject.

"Yes, thank you. I am feeling much better. I knew there was no reason to take such drastic pre-cautions." I replied.

I lifted myself off the lounge, trudging up the staircase to my bedroom. As, Sherlock watched me pull myself up the steps, I waved him goodbye.

Once in my bedroom, I collapsed onto my bed, staring at my ceiling. I needed some time alone. I needed to start planning.


	12. Riddles

"I'm surprised how easily, Elizabeth is playing into our plans." Moriarty said to Victoria back at the mansion.

"Yes. I agree. I thought it would be much harder. My homeless network is keeping an eye on her. Everything is working out perfectly." She confirmed.

"Good. Because you do know, if _one_ thing goes wrong. This whole plan could back-fire." Moriarty stated.

"Yes. I understand that. But nothing is going to go wrong. I can assure you of that." She said, stroking his hair.

Victoria walked over to, Moriarty and sat on his lap, seductively looking into his eyes, before kissing his lips and taking a hold of his shirt.

"I expect we will be having visitors soon. Go get ready. It's time."

* * *

As I made my way down the stairs, I was greeted with an angelic tune sounding from the living room. Sherlock sat on his lounge, gracefully playing the violin perched underneath his chin. As I appeared inside the room, he peered up from his instrument, continuing to play gracefully as I took a seat.

"Elizabeth, have you reported anything to, Victoria yet?"

"No. Nothing. I don't think I should."

Sherlock suddenly stopped playing, placing his violin and bow to the side of his lounge.

"What do you mean? Of course you should. I thought we had a deal."

"Yes, but I'm not sure if telling her what you're doing everyday is such a wise idea." I urged.

"Why not? What harm could she possibly do? I still want to know why she sent you to spy on me."

I lowered my head to the ground, breaking eye-contact, feeling un-certain with my decisions.

"Elizabeth, I hope you're not hiding any information from me. If you know why she sent you here. Tell me _now_." Sherlock seriously replied, deducing my body language.

"I don't know anything."

"Good. Now. Let's send Mummy a little message. Shall we?"

I nodded, fetching my phone from one of my pockets.

"Okay. Listen carefully. I want you to type these exact words for me."

_"Sherlock has just discovered a murder. He's very interested in it but I don't know what to do next. I need instructions."_

As I heard the words come out of, Sherlock's mouth, I typed as fast as I could on my mobile touch screen before pressing the send button.

"What do we do now?" I asked nervously.

"Now we wait."

* * *

Victoria's phone started buzzing, indicating a new message.

As she finished reading the message, she looked up from her phone and smirked at, Moriarty who sat on the lounge across from her with his legs crossed.

She looked back at her phone and promptly began typing a response within seconds, having no delay.

"Our guests will be arriving shortly." Victoria spoke.

* * *

Sherlock lowered the phone from his face, revealing a smirk hidden behind it. He suddenly jumped to his feet, snatching at my wrist, pulling me out of the apartment.

Once outside, he hailed down a cab. Before the cab could even stop properly he had already opened up the back door for me, urging me inside. For the majority of the trip I remained silent, gazing out the window. Sherlock was worried.

"You're being awfully quiet." He spoke trying to break the tension.

"I don't want to go back there, Sherlock."

I was scared. I felt so vulnerable. I felt like I was getting thrown back and forth continuously. Enough of these secrets and games. I wanted the truth.

As the car pulled up outside of the horrid mansion, we were making our way up to the front door until, Sherlock stopped me in my tracks. He took hold of my upper arms, making me look at him.

"Elizabeth, I promise nothing bad is going to happen. Trust me." He assured me whilst resting a hand on my shoulder.

I nodded before we walked to the front door. Sherlock rang the door-bell. After a few minutes the door opened and presenting herself was my Mother. She was dressed in an elegant black dress with black high-heels to match.

We entered the mansion, keeping a safe distance behind, Victoria. Inside awaiting for our return was, Moriarty. He sat on the lounge with his legs crossed. A mischievous smile overtook his face once he saw our presence in the room.

"Please. Sit down." Moriarty gestured.

As we sat down, Victoria sat next to, Moriarty. I knew what these people were capable of and I wasn't going to let my guard down. Not this time.

I looked at, Sherlock, his face expressed seriousness. It was obvious he felt the same way. After all, these were the people who were the cause of, John Watson's death.

As we all stared at each-other, Victoria began chuckling, disturbing the silence. Her laughter echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls surrounding them. She reached her arm out to me, urging me to come with her. I instantly tensed up, shaking my head in disgust.

"The grown-ups need to talk, Elizabeth. Go upstairs."

Sherlock instantly took hold of me as if he was protecting me, he shrouded my body underneath his arms, not letting go.

"Well..this is surprising. Never did I think in my wildest dreams I would see this happen. Sherlock _bonding_."

"Whatever you have to say, you can say it in-front of _her_."

"Fine. Have it your way."

Sherlock reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. The note from the crime-scene. As I saw him place it on the coffee table, I gulped, biting my lip nervously.

"So you found my note." Moriarty spoke.

"Yes. What do you want, Moriarty? Enough of these games."

Moriarty rose to his feet, he strode over to us. He sat on his right side as I sat on his left. He snatched at, Sherlock's jaw, moving his faces towards him and he slowly whispered in his ear.

_"There are two down and two to go. We have to keep the game going, Sherlock...And...That's not even the best part._"

Sherlock pulled away, staring at, Moriarty's face in disgust.

I closed my eyes and clenched my pants as tightly as I could. I took a deep breath in-I felt like screaming. My emotions were building up and I couldn't handle it for much longer.

Moriarty peered over, Sherlock's shoulder, noticing my distressed state. A devious smile appeared on his face as his voice cackled through the air.

"He doesn't know yet. Does he?" Moriarty questioned, placing a piece of gum in his mouth.

I put my head in my lap, covering my ears. I didn't want to listen to these people anymore. I didn't know the difference between right and wrong anymore. Deep inside I knew I was doing wrong, but I also knew what the consequences would be if I ever declined an order. That was something I was not ready to face yet.

Victoria strutted over to me, she took hold of my pony-tail and forcefully yanked it in the air, causing my head to smash against the lounge I was sitting on.

"Show some respect!" She yelled, slapping her hand across my face.

As my head turned from the force. I saw, Sherlock looking down at me. He was stunned, he didn't know how to react.

My Mother's abuse scared lots of people. It was very confronting. I don't blame him for not knowing what to do. When I looked into his eyes, I could see fear. I was used to it. The expression he showed, I had seen it a million times over. Any maid we hired would leave within a week, simply because they couldn't handle it anymore. The screaming, the cries. They were horrible.

Victoria used to pay them more if they ignored the abuse. Unfortunately, most of them accepted. But just because they accepted her offer doesn't mean they lasted. Most of them could only last up to a week and then they would leave.

But there was one thing I couldn't understand- If all of them hated it so much, why didn't any of them try and help me? Not one person reported the abuse to the Police. They just ran away and never came back, forgetting about me. As long as they didn't have to hear the screams, they could go back to living a normal life, pretending this never happened. I hope the days they spent here haunt them day in, day out. I want the _guilt_ to eat away at them, until eventually_ they_ can't handle it anymore.

My voice was shaky, but I managed to spit out an answer for, Moriarty's question.

"No, sir. I haven't told him."

"Told me _what_?" Sherlock replied irritated.

Moriarty clapped his hands together, rapidly standing up. His voice let out a groan as he slouched around the room, putting his face in his palms, shaking his head.

"_It's like I'm talking to a brick wall!_ You would know by now, Sherlock if you bothered to read the riddles I gave you! It was all in there. _The plan_."

Sherlock swiftly pulled his phone out of his blazer, searching for the first riddle he got. Once he found it he placed the phone on the coffee table so it was beside the second riddle.

He leaned in forward, crossing his hands under his chin, examining the phone and piece of paper. Trying to deduce the connections between the two.

Moriarty slammed his hands onto the coffee table, causing it to vibrate for a second.

"Have you found it yet?" He asked, growing impatient.

Sherlock was gritting his teeth together, trying to concentrate and then suddenly a smirk appeared across his face. Upon seeing this, Moriarty stood up straight, waiting for, Sherlock's answer.

"So, you warned me before you were going to kill the woman. Smart."

"Yes. But how? I want you to tell me _how_!" Moriarty ordered.

"In the first riddle you specifically told me you had something of mine. You were right. You did. _Molly and Mrs. Hudson._ In the second line you said you had something _blue_. To start with I didn't understand what it was, but now it makes sense- _The blue dress at the crime scene._ As we get further down the riddle, more people are dying. But they're not just dying in _normal_ ways. Their deaths need to correspond with their line."

"That deserves a gold star on the chart. Well done, Sherlock!"

"There is one more thing. I wasn't the one who killed those people..."

Sherlock lifted his head up, connecting his eyes with, Moriarty's

"_Then tell me. Who did_?" Sherlock whispered, not breaking eye contact.

"Elizabeth, I don't think Daddy is very happy with you. What have I told you about leaving your toys in a mess? I told you that if you leave them lying around, you're going to get in trouble. And now look at what you've done."


	13. House Arrest

I nervously bit my lip and scrambled onto the lounge, holding my knees to my chest. I didn't want to get in trouble from, Sherlock. He had to understand these _monsters_ forced me to do it- They forced me to kill innocent people and this wasn't the first time.

Once a week for as long as I can remember, Moriarty would come home with a new victim, tying them up. I knew when he had a new victim because he would come to my bedroom, take hold of my hair and literally drag me to the room where he trapped them.

When we were inside, he would lock the door behind him and just wait. He would wait for me to murder. Pierce the skin of an innocent. As I dug my blade into their flesh, they would scream horrific cries and wail in pain.

Maybe this is where it all begun? My thirst for blood. My _addiction._

Deep down inside I knew I was doing wrong. But it never stopped me. I carved into their flesh and I wouldn't even question it.

For years I asked myself why I never stopped. But now I know the answer. This is how I was raised. I thought this was normal. I had never been so wrong before in my life.

As I stayed huddled up on the lounge, Sherlock turned around to face me. I saw his face- The disappointment it expressed. It broke my heart.

Lowering his head, Sherlock gulped.

"Tell me he's lying, Elizabeth..."

I bowed my head in disgust. I had betrayed the only person who genuinely cared for me. I was ashamed of myself. These feelings I was experiencing tormented me. I was never going to forgive myself for this. I felt like dying.

"S-Sherlock.." I managed to stammer nervously.

His hands turned into fists as he clenched his pants. He kept his head lowered, staring at the floor below. His reflection in the white marble looked back at him as he stared at it between open legs.

I didn't need to see his face to know what he was expressing. I could _feel_ it. His hope was slowly slipping away, fading into his sorrows.

He angrily snatched at my wrist, yanking me up onto my feet.

"We're leaving." He demanded, keeping a firm grip.

"I wouldn't go anywhere if I were you. If you leave... _Elizabeth dies_. It's as simple as that." Moriarty retorted.

"You're wrong. She won't die. I'm not going to let _one_ person lay a single finger on her. Do you understand me?" Sherlock replied.

"You can't watch over her forever, Sherlock. After all- _Everybody has to sleep at some point_."

Without a word, Sherlock walked me out of the mansion, glaring at, Moriarty before slamming the door shut behind him.

"S-Sherlock. Please listen to me! I can explain everything." I pleaded.

"There is nothing to explain, Elizabeth."

He stormed down the driveway, leaving me behind to catch up. As I ran up to him, I clenched onto the sleeve of his coat, yanking it, pulling it down so I was on my knees. He stopped in his tracks and looked down at me. My hands stayed clenched on his coat until he forcefully yanked it out of my fingers. He pulled his sleeve back over his shoulder as I remained on the ground, staring up at him, searching for forgiveness.

"Get up." He retorted.

I stumbled onto my feet, bowing my head. I felt ashamed. I couldn't even look at, Sherlock. Every-time I looked at him all I saw was disappointment.

The drive back to Baker Street was spent in complete silence. It was agonizingly painful. I thought it was never going to end. The forty-five minute trip felt like hours. I was scared. I knew what people turned into behind closed doors. I didn't want that to happen. Not again. Not from, Sherlock.

* * *

Entering the apartment, Sherlock threw his coat onto the hanger and paced over to his lounge, collapsing on it. I hesitantly walked over to him, keeping a safe distance away.

"Sherlock. This isn't my fault. Please forgive me." I softly said whilst clearing my throat.

He got up off his back and planted his two feet firmly on the ground. He leaned in forward, examining my body language.

"You have killed before. I know that. It was in your Police records. Which means you have been caught in the past.. But _how_? Moriarty would bring them back to the mansion _how_ did you get caught? You should be in a detention center. Murder is not taken lightly."

"I have killed_ far_ too many innocent lives. I've lost count to be honest. You asked me if I had been caught. The answer is yes."

Sherlock hastily rose to his feet, storming over to me, looking me directly in the eyes.

"How?"

"One of them escaped. When she went to the Police she blamed both of us. I don't blame her. Victoria bailed us out."

"She bailed you out? Why?" Sherlock demanded.

_"Because she got bored._" I replied.

After a moment in silence, Sherlock hastily tried to change the subject slightly as another question came to his mind.

"I'm surprised you didn't turn the blade on him. Simple solution." Sherlock spoke.

"Trust me. Every-time I walked into that room-I contemplated it. So many times. But I never done it."

"Why? What stopped you?"

"Fear."

Sherlock began frantically pacing around the apartment with his hands crossed underneath his chin. As I watched him pace I slowly began walking backwards trying to remain unnoticed. Out of the corner of, Sherlock's eye he could see me moving. He came to a sudden halt.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"My bedroom."

"No. You're staying here. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"You're kidding..right?"

"Defiantly not. Moriarty wants you dead. I'm not giving him that chance. If that means you need to be under my surveillance 24/7 so be it."

"I'm not your prisoner!" I retaliated.

"Of-course you're not. You're free to do whatever you please."

"But just as long as you're with me?" I assumed.

Sherlock looked at me, giving me a weak smile.

"Precisely."

I trudged over to his lounge and plonked myself onto it, sighing. There was no point in arguing. Sherlock was not an easy man to persuade.

I scanned the apartment, looking at every fine detail of the room. Sherlock was staring at me as I was distracted by the room surrounding us. As I glanced over to him and saw him looking at me.

"_So_...what do you do for fun around here?" I questioned, directing my attention to him.

"How does solving crimes sound?" He smirked.

I leaned in forward, staring him dead in the eyes.

"_Tell me more_." I asked intrigued, showing the same smirk, Sherlock would usually express.


	14. The Hidden Emotion

Sherlock put on his white latex gloves before he tilted the head of the dead brunette lying on the ground. Her face showed a few cuts, but nothing serious.

As I stood a safe distance away from the corpse, Sherlock was knelt down beside the body, examining her.

"Come over here, Elizabeth." I heard him command.

As I directed my eyes over to him, I crossed my arms, walking over to him suspiciously.

"Tell me, Elizabeth. What do you see?" He asked me.

As I knelt down to, Sherlock's level. I roughly looked at the body before shrugging my shoulders.

"No, tell me. _What do you see._" He urged.

"I see a dead body with scratches."

"_You see but you don't observe_." He stated.

"Look at her clothes- There's white powder on her shirt. She obviously takes prescription medication."

"How could you _possibly_ know that's from a drug. White powder could be a million different things." I countered.

Sherlock smirked at me, he reached inside his coat, pulling out a bottle of pills.

"Found these in her kitchen. When you crush these, it turns into the same substance found on her clothing. Look at her hands- There is white powder on her fingertips. She has over-dosed on her own medication."

"So what are we doing here? It's a suicide. Not a murder."

Sherlock stuck his fingers inside her mouth, pulling her jaw open. As he opened it, her mouth revealed nothing. It was empty. All you could see was the darkness looming inside of her. It was eerie and frightening. I physically felt nauseated. I needed to turn away. I thought I was going to be sick.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he saw me turn around.

"I'll be fine." I replied, clenching onto my stomach, waiting for the nausea to pass.

"Come on. We'll get you home. I'm sorry you had to see that."

I nodded in agreement. Sherlock walked over to me, helping me to my feet. As he grasped my hands, pulling me up, I clenched my stomach. My legs were shaking as I attempted to walk. I felt-light headed and weak.

Sherlock saw I was having difficulty walking so he swept me off my feet and held me in his arms. As he was holding me, I grasped my fingers around the collar of his coat, lightly snuggling my head underneath his jaw-line. As he walked out of the crime-scene I could feel him slightly glancing down at me, confused by this gesture of affection.

* * *

I slowly woke up from my slumber. Not realizing I had fallen asleep on the lounge when we arrived home. Sherlock was leaning over my body, sticking paper to the wall behind me. As I positioned myself in an upright position he heard me moving and hastily looked down at me.

"You're awake."

"Yes. I am. What are you doing?" I questioned, staring at the paper covering the wall.

"Reviewing the evidence I managed to obtain while you were sleeping."

"What evidence? There's nothing to study. It was a suicide."

"No it wasn't."

Before I even had the chance to protest the situation, Sherlock handed me a folded piece of paper. As I took it out of his hands, I opened it.

_'The game isn't over yet, Sherlock.'_

I lowered the paper from my face, folding it back up in it's neat square while looking into the distance. I held it between two fingers passing it back to, Sherlock. As he took it out of my fingers I could feel him staring at me.

"Are you alright?"

I didn't reply. I continued to stare off into the distance, getting distracted within my own thoughts. Sherlock was right- _This wasn't a suicide_. The note was more then enough proof of that.

"Moriarty isn't going to stop until the riddle is complete. Even if we're not playing anymore, he still is."

As I heard, Sherlock speak these words I looked up at him with a worried look on my face.

"We need to find out if she had anything on her which was borrowed."

"Why?" I asked in a slightly confused tone.

"Because that's the next line of the riddle."

I dropped my head, looking at the floor below. I was sick of this. I was so tired. I just felt like sleeping and never waking up. Sherlock stepped back, staring at my bowed head. He softly sat down by my side. I felt his arm shroud over my shoulders, pulling me in close.

"Elizabeth. I promise this will be over soon. And it will just be a bad memory. I will try my hardest to give you a normal life. I Promise." Sherlock sincerely said, tilting my head up with his fingers so I was facing him.

I smiled faintly at him. It vanished as soon as our eyes met. I could see Sherlock's expression turn sad. He could see how unhappy I was. This life which I had to suffer daily was going to be the death of me. Victoria would finally have her way if this continued for any longer.

As Sherlock noticed my unhappiness he gently took hold of my hands and began speaking;

"I'll always be here for you, Elizabeth. No matter what. You can talk to me about anything you want. You think no one can see you. But that's not true. I do."

Sherlock gently kissed my forehead. His words made me smile. It was nice to feel loved for a change. It was a rare emotion I have never had much experience with. _What was love exactly?_

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked.

" My whole life has been so full of _hatred_ and _anger_. I forgot how to feel any other emotion..._Until tonight_. S-Sherlock..._I think I love you_."


	15. Poison

Sherlock sat in place, speechless. He was trying to comprehend what had just been said to him. _Love?_ _No...it can't be_. She's wrong. She _has_ to be wrong.

"Don't say something so ridiculous, Elizabeth. You hardly know me. I'm practically a stranger."

"Maybe so. But I have been around evil for long enough to know good when I see it. Sherlock...you're a good man. I'm proud to be able to call you my Father."

_F-Father... _

Those words still cause Sherlock to shudder. He was still trying to wrap his head around the concept of having a daughter. This new reality felt so foreign in his eyes.

_'How can my life change so drastically in a matter of seconds_?' He continued to think to himself.

Suddenly Sherlock felt a warm breath hit his cheek. He snapped out of his thoughts to witness my lips touching his face. I gently kissed him and whispered a breath into his ear.

"_Thank you._"

He gave me a faint smile before he crossed his fingers underneath his chin, trying to desperately change the subject. These conversations made him feel un-comfortable. He couldn't understand what love was. It was a mystery to him.

"So, tell me. When you looked at her body did you see anything borrowed on her?"

"How am I supposed to know?" I replied.

Sherlock reached into his coat and hastily threw the bottle of pills from the crime-scene to me. I perfectly caught them in my hands where I saw Sherlock smirking at my fast reflexes.

"Pills?"

"They're not hers. Look at the label. Different name."

"Wait. I thought Moriarty was behind this. She over-dosed. There's no way he could pull something like that off." I remarked.

"_Oh._ _But he did_. He may be smart. But I'm smarter."

"So. Technically the pills _were_ borrowed."

"Exactly. Come on. We're going out." Sherlock replied with a huge grin across his face whilst putting on his navy blue scarf.

"Where?"

"To the mortuary. Where else would we be going?"

"Oh. Of course that's where we're going. Why wouldn't we be going there?" I replied sarcastically.

Sherlock let out a chuckle of amusement before he took hold of my hand and escorted me out the door.

* * *

"Molly, there you are!"

"Oh. Hello. I take it you're both here to see the body which just came in?" She assumed.

"Of course that's why I'm here. Why else would I be here?"

Molly's face suddenly fell to sadness. Sherlock's cruel words pierced through her like a lightening bolt. They shattered her heart. Even after their time together his feelings still hadn't changed.

She hesitantly gulped, trying to clear the lump which suddenly appeared in her throat. She could feel tears dwelling behind her eyes, threatening to escape at any moment now.

Without a word she left the room. She couldn't let Sherlock see her like this. She would put on the brave face for him any day.

"What did you do?" I snapped, looking at him fiercely.

"What are you talking about?"

"You need to go and talk to her. I don't know what your relationship with her is. But you hurt her and you need to go and apologize right now!" I demanded.

Sherlock glared at me for a few moments, acting as if he were a five year old having a temper tantrum until eventually he gave in.

"Fine!" He huffed, rolling his eyes.

Sherlock stormed out the door, following Molly's trail of invisible footsteps.

Molly was crouched on the floor, weeping to herself. She muttered words of despair under her breath as her tears formed a small puddle near her legs. Her chest met with her knees, forming a protective ball where she felt like she could keep all of her insecurities buried inside of herself.

Sherlock's footsteps slowly entered the room. He walked inside to witness Molly huddled into a small corner. Her back faced him as she continued to weep into her knees, burrowing her face inside the darkness she had produced.

Ever so gently, Sherlock placed his hand on her shoulder. He crouched down beside her as she stopped crying from his touch. His warm hands comforted her, gently holding her into a hug whilst she remained inside her protective ball, not yet ready to release herself.

"_I'm sorry, Molly. I would never intentionally hurt you_..."

Upon hearing Sherlock's words she slowly began releasing her head from her knees. Her swollen face looked up at Sherlock's blue eyes as they looked down at her.

"So, you're saying what happened back at the apartment was a mistake then?" Molly rightfully assumed.

"Yes. It should of never of happened. It was in the heat of the moment. I had so much running through my mind. I was so..._confused_. But the truth is-_I don't have sexual desires_. Relationships aren't my feild of choice. I am married to my work and that's as far as I want to go."

Sherlock hastily rose to his feet, storming out of the room before she had the chance to say anything. As I waited outside the morgue I saw Sherlock quickly pacing towards me.

"We're leaving. Right now."

"What happened?"

"Molly is still upset and she needs some time alone. We will come back tomorrow."

As we walked out of the room together, I found myself struggling to keep up with his fast pace as he determinedly strode towards the exit. I hastily snatched at his sleeve, causing him to come a to a sudden halt as he looked down at my gesture.

"What did you say to her?" I furiously questioned.

"The truth."

He snatched his sleeve out of my grasp, carelessly walking out of the hospital. As we exited the Hospital he immediately hailed down a cab for the both of us. As he opened the door for me his phone began ringing.

"Hello, Sherlock."

"_Moriarty_. What do_ you_ want?" Sherlock hissed into his phone.

"Besides your head on a stick. Not much. I'm just wondering if you got my note yet?"

"Yes. I got it. But I have news for you. We're not playing this petty little game of yours anymore. It's game over."

"This is _far_ from _over_. You're going to play whether you like it or not. In-fact..._You're playing right now_."

"What are you talking about?"

"Tell me, Sherlock. How's Elizabeth feeling?"

The phone-line went dead as Sherlock stood in place, speechless. The world around him fell silent as he tried to process the words which were just spoken to him.

"S-Sherlock..Are you okay?" I ask, slowly walking towards him.

"Elizabeth.._Tell me_.. How are you?"

"I-I-I'm fine..." I stuttered.

"You're lying. Tell me the truth."

"It's noting. Honestly. Don't worry about it." I assured.

"Get in the cab right now." Sherlock scowled.

"W-Where are we going?" I hesitantly ask.

"We're going to go pay Moriarty a little visit."

As I entered the cab and slammed the door I gulped in fear. _No..I don't want to go back there again. I can't. I can't keep running around in these circles. This has to stop._

"Sherlock. No. You can't make me go back there again. _I won't_."

"Elizabeth. Now is not the time to be arguing with me. You're coming. I can't risk letting you out of my sight."

"No! I won't be his puppet on a string anymore. I never want to see him again. Please don't make me go back there." I begged.

"We have to go back. You don't have a choice."

As I reluctantly gave in to Sherlock's decision I could see out of my peripheral vision, Sherlock crossing his fingers underneath his chin, entering his mind palace. This could only mean one thing for the entire trip- _Silence_.

* * *

As Sherlock knocked on the door waiting for an answer he could hear footsteps approaching from the other side. The door slowly opened as Moriarty answered, smiling deviously at us both.

"No need to knock, Sherlock. You're welcome in anytime. Make yourself at home." Moriarty sarcastically remarked.

As the three of us walked into the living room the sound of our footsteps unlocked the memories we were trying so hard to keep buried. I could see Sherlock trying so hard to ignore them. But he couldn't. He gazed into the distance, distracted in his own thoughts until Moriarty's voice snapped him out of his thought process.

"Sherlock... I want you _dead_. Why won't you just _die_? I can assure you _everyone_ you have ever known will die in your place if you don't. So make a decision. I don't like being patient Sherlock. It frustrates me. I am not a patient man."

As Moriarty looked over to me I glared back at him in disgust, causing him to snicker in amusement.

"That's enough! Tell me what you have done to Elizabeth!" Sherlock yelled.

Sherlock's voice echoed throughout the room while Moriarty paced back and forth with his fingers clawed at his forehead. He chuckled at himself in amusement as he heard his shoes hit the white marble below.

"You really don't see it..do you?"

"See what?"

"I thought even _you_ would see it. The chemical reactions in her body. _Think_. What would cause those reactions simultaneously?" Moriarty quizzed.

I could see Sherlock trying to search through his brain as if it were a storage system. He was scanning every brain cell as if each cell held a separate piece of information.

"Come on Sherlock. It's not that hard. _Think_."

Suddenly I saw Sherlock's eyes widen in shock as he stared at the floor.

"Ah. Finally. You've figured it out." Moriarty smirked.

"_No..it can't be true_.." Sherlock spoke under his breath.

"Oh. But I'm afraid it is."

I looked back and forth between the two, confused by what they were talking about. Suddenly Sherlock furiously strode across the room, grasping Moriarty by the collar of his shirt as he pinned him down onto the lounge, snarling angrily at him.

"Fix her right now!"

"It's too late. Elizabeth's going to _die_. And there's nothing you can do about it."

Moriarty's cackle echoed throughout the room as Sherlock's hand firmly held him in place, giving him no chance to escape.

As the two men stared furiously at each-other I slowly reached into my jacket, pulling out a silver hand-gun.

"Move Sherlock." I demanded, angrily walking towards Moriarty with my gun grasped in my hand.

As I aimed it towards his head. Sherlock stared at me as I bared gritted teeth. I furiously wanted to pull that trigger for all of the pain and heart-ache this monster had put me through.

"What have you done to me!?" I shouted, spitting in his face.

"_I poisoned you_. You have been poisoned this entire time Elizabeth. Ever since Victoria dumped you at Sherlock's house you have had poison running through your veins. Eventually it's going to kill you and there's no way to stop it. Why do you think you have been so sick lately?"

As I let out a frustrated growl I fiercely pull the trigger of my hand-gun. The bullet flew out of the barrel, planting itself inside of Moriarty's skull. As I saw the blood run out of his skull, his eyes turned dead, staring into nothingness.

I felt Sherlock's arms swiftly take hold of me as he shrouded my body underneath his trench-coat. He ran me out of the mansion as fast as possible, trying to leave the scene as fast as he could before Victoria could make an appearance.


	16. Death isn't always the answer

The silence of the mansion became eerie as Moriarty's dead body shrouded the lounge. His red blood dripped onto his white t-shirt, gradually seeping into the fabric he wore.

Suddenly the silence got interrupted as the door to the mansion swung open. It was Victoria. As her eyes met with the lounge she saw Moriarty's motionless body. Her footsteps gradually made her way up to her dead lover. She gently knelt down by his side, looking into his dead eyes. She moved her face closer towards his, sniffing his blood ridden hair, licking the side of his face as she tasted his blood inside her mouth.

"Looks like they were to fast for you. Rest now my dear."

Victoria slowly closed Moriarty's eyes so his eye-lids covered his eyes. As she gradually knelt up off her knees onto her feet she pulled out her mobile phone where she instantly began to dial a number.

* * *

As the ride home in the cab was spent in silence I heard my mobile phone ringing in my pocket. As it continued to ring Sherlock glanced over at me.

"Are you going to get that?"

"Why would I answer it? It's Victoria. She has obviously found Moriarty."

As I saw Sherlock roll his eyes he hastily snatched the phone out of my hands, answering it.

"Elizabeth..."

"No. Sherlock. What do you want?"

"Next time I see you Sherlock; I am going to burn the flesh off your bones and force you to watch the heat disintegrate every piece of skin off your body. You're going to get burned alive Sherlock. And I am going to indulge in every moment. You're going to scream in agony as your skin melts away. And i'm going to crave it."

"_Try. Your. Hardest. I promise I shall not disappoint you._" Sherlock threatened.

"Until we meet next time, Mr. Holmes ."

Sherlock hung up the phone before silently handing the device back to me. As I took it out of his hands I could see the anger in his face, furiously looking straight ahead, not even acknowledging me.

"Wh-What did she say?" I stuttered.

"Nothing of import."

I slowly nodded my head as I shoved the mobile phone back into my pocket. I leaned my head against the window looking out the glass in despair.

The rest of the car trip was spent in silence. Sherlock was furious at me. I knew Victoria to well. She had said something to him. Something bad. It didn't take a genius to deduce that the brave Sherlock Holmes was in-fact..._scared.  
_

* * *

"Sherlock...are you going to have something to eat?" I timidly asked opening up the fridge inside the apartment, searching for food.

"No. I need to think."

"Sherlock...you need to eat something..."

"No. _You_ need to eat something." Sherlock countered.

"Don't worry about me...I'm fine." I sighed.

Sherlock swiftly swung his legs up onto the lounge, crossing his fingers underneath his chin as he applied three nicorette patches to his forearm. He slowly inhaled a deep breath as I stared at him.

"Elizabeth...I always worry about you."

As I slammed the fridge door shut I looked to the floor in despair. Sherlock hastily strode over to me. He took hold of the side of my face, tilting it upwards so I was staring at him. My tears were brimming around the edge of my eyes, just about ready to cascade down my face.

"Elizabeth..."

"_Sherlock..I'm going to die. I'm dying._"

"No. No you're not. You're not dying. I promise I'm going to help you."

"H-How? The damage has been done. It's in me. Any breath could be my last."

"Don't say that. I'm going to find a way to reverse this. There has to be a way. I won't let this kill you. It can't."

"Sherlock...You can't help me. No one can. Please don't blame yourself. I-I just..I need to ask you something..."

"What is it?"

"I want my final breath to be spent with you. _I want you by my side_. Will you do that for me?"

I saw Sherlock gulp as he stared at the floor below in shock. He was petrified. His body tensed up as stiff as stone, trying to comprehend everything. I came into his life so fast and now it was only a matter of time until I said my final goodbye.

"Sh-Sherlock..please. I'm begging you. You're the only person I want by my side during this traumatic time. During my death. Please." I begged, tears streaming down my face.

"Of course I will be there for you Elizabeth. You don't need to ask me. I will always be there." Sherlock replied, pulling my body into a hug as he kissed my forehead.

As his head was leaned up against mine I felt a chain of wet tears fall onto my face, colliding with my own. Feeling this sudden sadness take over me, caused me to clench my arms around him harder as if it were my final gesture of love.

"T-There's one more thing I want you to do for me Sherlock."

"Anything."

"While you're by my side...will you play the violin for me?"

Sherlock seemed confused by my request. But he didn't question it. Instead he just slowly nodded his head against mine, pulling me into a tighter hug as he squeezed me.

"_Thank you. Maybe now dying won't be so terrifying._" I whispered as our tears continued to collide into one another, hitting the floor below.

As Sherlock pulled me off of him he looked down at me. His swollen eyes looked down at me as I stared back at him.

"Sherlock...what did Victoria say to you?" I questioned, trying to change the subject.

"What she said isn't important. I'm not worried about her. I'm worried about _you_."

"_Thank-you for caring. You have cared more for me then anyone ever has_."

"You know what...I know a good Chinese restaurant near-by. Why don't we go and buy some take out?" Sherlock commented, trying to distract me from the daunting thought burrowing itself inside my head.

"I'd like that.." I timidly replied, smiling at his kind gesture.

As Sherlock smiled at me he wrapped me underneath his arm, walking me out of the apartment where he soon lead the way to the Chinese restaurant near-by.


End file.
